Desire
by Thousand Faces
Summary: Liam Innis... a man with a past... erm... well, actually a woman impersonating a man, but still with quite a past. She has a few things to work out, an insidious villian out to slice her throat; a Captain that's a bit too touched...eh, just R&R mate!
1. Liam Moore?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fanfic. Duh! I mean, If I did, why would I even bother posting this thing on fanfiction.net. I would be able to make a mint! LOL, JK. The only things I do own, are the things that aren't in the movie. Another Duh!  
  
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A figure in a long shabby coat and substantial hat sat hunched over the bar. The figure, apparently male, sat contemplatively drinking a glass of wine in The Sansy Bar. Another older man came and sat beside the figure at the bar. "I'm sorry mate, but I don't believe I've seen you 'ere before."  
  
"You say that every time I come here old man. I think you've been drinking too much. The name, once again, is Liam Innis." A long slender hand shot out from underneath the coat.  
  
"Oh," belched the old man, clasping the hand more to steady his swaying body than in greeting. He had indeed had had too many drinks but he didn't need someone to point that out for him. "O' course you've been 'ere, I should 'ave known. You know 'ow I can tell?" The man grinned slyly.  
  
"No, how?" asked Liam, his voice dripping with sarcasm. However, the old man was in no condition to notice this.  
  
"I see Anna over there is giving you a secret little smile." He wheezed in laughter. "Which can only mean one thing o course." The old drunk leaned a little too close into Liam's face. He repelled backwards as the smell of bad rum hit his face and shouted, "Go back to your drink old man!" The old man slipped away, wheezing with laughter all the while. Liam just shook its head and sipped some more of his wine.  
  
"Anna!" Liam called, beckoning the girl behind the bar to come closer.  
  
"Yes, sir?" she said innocently. That oh, so sweet, oh so annoying smile was once again flitting across her face.  
  
"Anna," whispered Liam, "You really have to stop smiling at me like that. I told you who I really am precisely because I didn't want you to smile at me like that!!"  
  
"Oh come on, Dèsirèè," Anna whispered back, "I can't 'elp it. It's just so funny to see all the other customers treat you like a man. You're lucky I don't burst out laughing." She was rather close to laughing hysterically right now so Dèsirèè Moore decided to let the barmaid go tend to some of the other customers in the pub.  
  
Dèsirèè enjoyed the drinks, the smoke, and the music that was Sansy Bar but was afraid people here knew her a bit too well. She wasn't that anxious for the entire male population to discover that the pirate Liam Innis was a gawky looking girl. Dèsirèè dressed as a man for three main reasons. One, pants and a shirt were infinitely more comfortable than a dress and a corset, and were much easier to get around in. Second, most people didn't have a lot of respect for female pirates unless you beat them until their morale improved. While Dèsirèè did have to do this occasionally, she did not like have to give a good thrashing to practically any person she came in contact with. So, dressing as a man did earn one immediate respect than if she were to make her sex and job plain. Third, unless you were a whore or a barmaid, it was very dangerous to be a woman walking down the streets and alleyways of Tortuga; not to mention the tips as a barmaid were lousy. She knew better than most the danger of this. She could still hear the pained screams of mercy..  
  
She shook off the sound ringing in her ears. If she was going to think about that tonight she better have something stronger than the red wine she was currently drinking.  
  
"Anna!" she cried, "Bring me some rum!"  
  
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Well, how'd y'all like that chapter, hmmm? I really need your comments and reviews so I know if I should continue writing this story. Yes Jack, Will, Elizabeth, the crew, and Norrington (and Percy the Pug; Not the one from Pocahontas another cuter one) will be in the following chapters if you guys like this first one. Adios Amigos- Thousand Faces 


	2. Jack and something strange

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fanfic except for Anna, Dèsirèè Moore (also known as Liam Innis), and all the other extras. Oh, I also own Jack. Unfortunately, I only own him in my dreams. *sigh*  
  
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Captain Jack Sparrow swaggered into The Sansy Bar. He breathed deep the smell of his dominion. This was one of the places he was most comfortable, besides the sea. The tawdry spiel of music, the assailing smell of rum and the pleasant sight of women ready for a good time; this was his kingdom.  
  
He swayed to one of the many grubby tables that made up the main section of Sansy Bar. He plopped down in his chair and surveyed the other occupants of the establishment. Nothing too unusual to see, just the gamblers, the barmaids and the drunks.  
  
Speaking of drunks.  
  
Jack caught the arm of a passing barmaid. "Bring me a tankard o' rum, will ya luv?" he gave her a charming smile. The barmaid just blushed, gave a nod, and hurried away. It was amazing the way he affected woman. He didn't really understand it himself. One minute they were falling all over him and the next he was receiving a hard slap across his face. He had finally come to the conclusion that women were just fickle creatures with not a brain in their head.  
  
Excepting Anamaria of course.  
  
His eyes wandered to the bar. It was empty save for one occupant. A person in a long shabby coat and floppy hat. That was interesting. Maybe he could help..  
  
Jack watched intently as an old drunk stumbled up to the figure stationed at the bar. After a few words the man at the bar stuck his hand out in greeting. Although he wasn't close enough to hear what was being said the old drunk leered into the figures face. The figure repelled from the old man shouting, "Go back to your drink old man!"  
  
Jack eyes narrowed into slits. There was something about that voice. Something about that voice that just wasn't right. He looked closer at the figure. The figure beckoned to someone behind the bar. The barmaid that Jack had stopped walked up to him. They had a few words then the barmaid went on her way, looking as though she was trying not to laugh. The figure straightened and Jack could now see a thin, yet muscular frame through the coat.  
  
Jack didn't know what to make of all this. He mulled over what he was seeing. Somehow, something didn't fit. But what?  
  
His thoughts were jarred by the clanging of a mug on the table. After all, how could a man think clearly without a drink of rum?  
  
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Alright that was the second installment, savvy? HEHEHEHEHEHE! Sorry, couldn't help myself. Anyhow I still need people's reviews, anonymous or signed, it doesn't matter! Just talk to me people!!!!! In the next chapter, we find out a little bit more about Dèsirèè and Jack strikes a bargain. 


	3. The Island of Lost Souls

Disclaimer: I only wished I own the Pirates of the Caribbean. If I did... well, if I owned Jack Sparrow do you think I'd be wasting my time writing this thing? Jeez. ( I do, however, own Dèsirèè and the other bit characters in this piece thingy.  
  
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Dèsirèè sat at the bar, staring meditatively at the last few puddles of rum in her tankard. To drink, she thought to herself remembering her early schoolings with a smile, Or not to drink. That is the question, whether tis nobler in the mind, and something, something, something. She never could remember that last part. She decided to drink the final swallow of rum when she felt someone tap her on the back, almost making her choke on her drink.  
  
"What?" she coughed as she turned around.  
  
It was Anna. "I just thought you should know," she whispered, biting her bottom lip, "That this man's been watching you since he came in."  
  
"Ah." mused Dèsirèè. She thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose there's only one thing to do then."  
  
"What's that?" asked Anna.  
  
"Leave. Goodbye Anna, I'll probably see you in a few days." With that, she rose, left two shillings on the bar, and made her way to the door. She did indeed hear the scraping of a chair behind her as she left and decided that she should probably keep a steady pace while making her return voyage to the inn. She could hear footsteps behind her, hastening to keep up with her as she lengthened her stride.  
  
There was a slight chill in the air. As Dèsirèè shoved her hands in her pockets, she heard a shouting from behind her.  
  
"Oy, you there! 'Old up a minute mate!"  
  
Dèsirèè slowed her pace only slightly so that she could find out what the man wanted without having to shout too much.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I was hoping you could help me find someone."  
  
"Why ask me? Do I look like someone who would know everyone?..... Lord, I hope not."  
  
"No, you look like someone who would know where someone hardly anyone knows is."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Alright, just so you won't follow me to the place I sleep, who is it you're looking for?"  
  
"A pirate called Liam Innis."  
  
Dèsirèè stopped. The man did the same. She could just say right now that she didn't know who Liam Innis was or she could find out what this man wanted. The first way would be safer, she decided. Never one for safety, she opted to find out what the man wanted.  
  
Dèsirèè turned and extend her hand. "Well, mate, I do believe you've just found him. Liam Innis, at your service. What can I do for you?"  
  
She took a close look at the man she was addressing. He was about the same height as her and had black hair that had been braided in certain parts with different beads and charms. His eyes were outlined in kohl, as were hers, to keep out the glare of the sun. He wore a red bandana underneath a large hat. He had a sword and a pistol around his waist and wore the practical pants and shirt. Dèsirèè could tell right away he was a pirate so there were almost no worries about being attacked. Almost.  
  
The stranger looked rather surprised that the person standing in front of him was the person he was looking for. But he finally took the hand she had offered and shook it warmly.  
  
"Finally, I've been looking for you all over this rock for three days! Doesn't anybody else know where to find you?"  
  
"I like to come and go. Did you want something?" she asked again, rolling her eyes and starting to walk forward again, "Because if you don't I'm going to go to bed."  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about the Island of Lost Souls."  
  
This time she kept on walking, but her interest was peaked. He walked beside her, matching Dèsirèè step for step.  
  
"What makes you think that I know anything unusual about the Island of Lost Souls? Everyone's heard the stories. It's an Island that no ones ever found. It supposed to be the home to a marvelous palace, and every room is said to be filled with silver and gold. Nothing more to it than that."  
  
"I want to know what happened three years ago when you went in search for it."  
  
Why did he have to keep on surprising her with things like that? It was damned annoying. "Yes I did. I didn't find it."  
  
Jack shook his head. "You must have had some idea of where to look." Dèsirèè just continued to walk forward, her head watching her feet intently. Jack sighed. Some people were so difficult. "Look all I want to know is what did you do with the map and do you still have it."  
  
"If I said I had it, what would you give me?"  
  
"A king's fortune, in return for the map."  
  
She chuckled to herself. Was he really so material? She shook her head. "Its not money that'll get you the map, mate. Whatever this venture you're thinking of undertaking I want to be in it. You're not getting the map without getting me." She whirled around and looked him dead in the eyes. That was easier said then done. His eyes were very.capturing.  
  
Dèsirèè was knocked back to reality at the sound of Jack's voice. "I don't see any problem in that. I've heard enough good things about you and your skills. I'd be happy to have you on..." Jack looked at her. She was staring behind him, a grim look on her face.  
  
"Ah, bloody 'ell... Why tonight?" she turned around and walked quickly forward. Her pace not exactly running, but she wasn't taking her sweet time either.  
  
Jack stood in the street looking confused. He looked behind him, he couldn't see anything. Maybe that man was a little stranger than he figured.  
  
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	4. What the hell is going on?

Okay all, here's the next chapter. Before we begin though, I'd like to take a moment to thank all of my reviewers: *ahem, ahem*  
  
Dread Pirate Flint: Yes Percy the Pug. Don't worry it will all become clear later on. MadamStella: Sure why not! Actually I may be able to put you in the story. I'm not bsing you have a chance! Scarlett Red Rose: Thanxs for your review! Ah the rum. And don't worry about the title. I found one! OrcaGirl: I certainly hope you do return. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I think about people reading my story. Or maybe its just the rum Scarlett Red Rose gave me. Anon: THANX! Morgan's Heir: Thank YOU for all three of your reviews. Never fear! I shall right again! PineAppleLint: OMG OMG OMG!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! *ahem* Thanx so much for reviewing! I absolutely adore your story! Anyone who hasn't read Meeting His Match, Go! Read! After you read this chapter of course. ********* Dèsirèè was resisting the urge to run. That would only feed their sick pleasure. Damn! Why did they have to find her tonight! She looked back and saw Jack just standing there, in the middle of the road, looking confused. She walked back, silently cursing every deity she had ever heard of. She reached Jack, grabbed his arm and dragged him forward. "Will you stop looking like a confused drunk and come on!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You didn't bring your crew with you did you?"  
  
Now he was even more confused. "Why would I have?"  
  
"I don't bloody well know! I was just hoping you did, because I don't want those seven shifty looking guys behind us to be who I think they are."  
  
"Oh... Is that supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
"Just keep walking. How close is your boat?"  
  
Jack looked at her blankly. This pirate wanted to hide out on his ship?  
  
"Don't tell me you don't have a boat?"  
  
"I don't have a boat mate. I have a ship." He said with pride, "And I think if we turn here then we might be able to get to it, but-"  
  
"Good." She said pulling him in the direction of the street corner. Suddenly, three men stepped onto the road, blocking their path. She dipped her hat to them and spun around, flinging Jack behind her. Regrettably, there were already three men blocking the road that way. Another man stepped into the street in front of them.  
  
Dèsirèè and Jack backed-up slowly, trying to watch all seven men at once. They were boxed in. Both were saying silent curses in there heads, each putting their hand near their sword.  
  
"If you want money," said Jack, "I'm afraid we've spent it all."  
  
"We don't want money, mate."  
  
"Well then," Dèsirèè said, stepping forward, "What can we do for you gentlemen?"  
  
At the sight of her the men began to murmur and snicker. The front one's face broke out into a snide grin.  
  
" 'Ello, Captain."  
  
Jack looked from one to the other, obviously surprised and, if possible, more confused than ever.  
  
Dèsirèè's hand slowly moved closer to her sword. She tilted her head slightly, "Squib."  
  
"Oh by the way," said Squib, his rotten smile widening, "Captain Thorn sends his regards."  
  
The rest of the men snickered, but Dèsirèè didn't move. "You are purposely avoiding the question Squib. What do you want?"  
  
"Come captain you should know by now." When she made not move to answer him, he shook his head. "It's the map captain, the map. Thorn hoped you'd give it up without a fuss." he opened his filthy hands expectantly.  
  
Dèsirèè placed her hands on her hips. and her sword. Jack's hand was also curling around the hilt of his sword.  
  
"Hmmmmm.." said Dèsirèè, pretending to contemplate what she had just heard. "So my choices are to hand the map over to you bastards or kicking all of your arses..let me think..I think I'll go with kicking your arses."  
  
The pirates just stood there, dumb with the shock of being insulted. The pirate Squib was the first to recover. "You arrogant little." And with that the man charged, his sword drawn.  
  
* * * * * * * * * Weeeeelll.. How'd ye like it? Huh? Huh, huh huh??? Tell me tell me tell me! There's only one thing I crave more than writing and that's reviews! Don't be lazy, click that button! CLICK IT!!!! *gets slapped back to sanity (you'd be surprised how often that happens)* Oh, sorry bout that. Just want you to know that some things will be cleared up in the next chapter. Also some things will get cloudier. Don'tcha just luv me? *cricket, cricket* Ah well, I have Jack locked up in my closet, he'll comfort me.  
  
Adios  
Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces 


	5. So It Begins

Disclaimers: Dudes, I don't own it, have a very unlikely chance of ever owning it, so DON"T SUE ME!!!*holds up arms in front of her head protectively (if you don't get it, watch Ice Age)*  
  
Author's little notation thingy:  
  
Okay dudes, have just one word to say to you:  
  
Wow  
  
I never thought I could get so many reviews for one chapter! Its swonderful! Its smarvelous! Its *gets slapped for doing Gene Kelly impression* Anywho, I was truly flattered by all the requests for another chapter so *waves her hands* Here it is! My gift to man kind *people in the audience heard murmuring, "Yeah, suuuure."*  
  
*******  
  
The attack was too rash. Unplanned.  
  
Dèsirèè flicked out her sword like a cobra, flicking its poisonous fangs at its hapless prey. The sword bit into Squib's flesh, driving its poison deep into his heart. His eyes were wide with shock, his body crumpled to the ground, his damned soul sunk down into the eternal pit of hell.  
  
The bandits looked down upon their fallen comrade. There eyes turned angrily towards Jack and Dèsirèè. The brigands drew there swords and started advancing slowly upon Dèsirèè and Jack. Both had their swords drawn, one already slick with blood. Both were backing up into the middle of the circle. Soon, they were almost back to back.  
  
Keeping her eyes on the three men in front of her, Dèsirèè casually asked, "By the by, what's your name?"  
  
Jack was also concentrating on the blade that was coming ever closer to his throat. "Captain Jack Sparrow pleased to meet you. I think."  
  
Dèsirèè choose to ignore this cynical remark, paying more heed to the flashing steal in front of her.  
  
"We could take three each if that isn't too much for you," sarcastically remarked Jack.  
  
Dèsirèè made herself a mental note to kick him very hard later.  
  
If she was around later.  
  
"Certainly."  
  
And with that, the dance of death began.  
  
********  
  
*Thousand Faces walks out on stage and quickly gets rotten tomatoes flung at her head for her "gift to man kind". She ducks, her pirate hat flying off in the process.* You bloody.! *she draws her sword, sees the audience draw their swords and quickly puts hers down* Hehe, sorry about that folks! I know that this chapter is the shortest chapter on earth, but I'm having a little trouble with the next scene. If any of y'alls want to help me with the sword fight scene, (that is the fighting part) then I welcome your suggestions! Love ya all and if I use your suggestion, maybe we can work out some sort of prize *MAJOR hinting happening here*  
  
Adios Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces 


	6. Fight Fight Fight!

Disclaimer: Although I now own the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD, I still do not own the rights to the film. Darn it!  
  
Hey guys.sorry about not posting another chapter for, oh maybe a few millennia. I just.OG I can't bloody well describe it. I just hope there are some of you left who are sitting there reading this. Please read. Please review. Please enjoy.  
  
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Jack and Dèsirèè were partners in this final dance. They moved as one as they sliced between the bandits like water seeping through the cracks. Their swords clanged out an eerie accompaniment as they clashed together.  
  
The sounds of the struggle did not alarm the citizens of Tortuga. So many worthy pirates had been lost to the drunk and darkened nights that the sound of steel against steel was just a regular part of the citizens' day.  
  
Jack quickly dispatched of a less than observant bandit and glanced over to check on the man he believed to be Innis. After all, that boy was his treasure map!  
  
When he glimpsed over at Innis, he was amazed. The three men who the supposed Innis was fighting were clearly experienced fencers but they might as well been fighting their own shadows. Their opponents thin figure, which Jack had first thought to be a sign of weakness, slipped between their blades easily. So easily in fact that a stout, muscular man was killed with his colleagues blade, that was aimed not at him, but at the phantom like Innis.  
  
Jack was snapped back to reality by the sound of two bodies rushing towards him. He quickly flung out his blade impaling the last two of his opponents. He turned back towards Dèsirèè. Jack saw that she had already run another man through, the bandit's blood already soaking into the cold, dirt street.  
  
The pirate whom Dèsirèè was fighting had obviously figured out that his opponent was a master with a sword. So, he had resulted to abandoning the traditional form and had switched to fighting the way pirates were born to fight. Dirty. The grizzled man grabbed the long coat that hung about Dèsirèè's person. She quickly slid out of the coat, but was nevertheless thrown off balance. The remaining brigand used this moment to strike her face with the butt of his sword. She stumbled back but quickly regained her composure and kicked her assailant very hard in a place that was very sensitive.  
  
The scum curled up unceremoniously on the ground, moaning quietly. Jack flinched involuntarily. That had happened to him a few times.  
  
Jack began to saunter towards Dèsirèè. She was bent over, retrieving her coat that was still clutched in the bandit's hand. She stooped down towards the man. "Thank you," she said, plucking up the coat. She turned around at the sound of his voice.  
  
"You alright there, mate?" Jack inquired.  
  
"Yeah, I'm alright," she quipped cheerfully, "I'm probably gonna have a wicked bruise on my chin but." she paused.  
  
Jack was contemplating her with a look of mild surprise.  
  
"That's interesting."  
  
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Well, whadya think? It may seem a bit rough, but it's the first time I've ever written a scene that revolves around so much physical action. Next time, Dèsirèè meets the crew of the Black Pearl and gets to know Jack a little better, which is probably a bad thing. Tune it tomorrow *or next week don't know how long it will take me to write the scene* for the next thrilling installment of "Desire" WOOOOOOOOO!  
  
Adios Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces 


	7. Jack Get's the Disclaimer

Disclaimer: I don't own The Black Pearl, I don't own Jack or his sexiness, and I don't own Tortuga. However, Dèsirèè so please, if you want to use her (that sounds so wrong doesn't it?) ask first!  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Please don't shoot me! I know I haven't updated since last year! But I came through eventually right? *cricket cricket* Right? *growling from audience* Hokay, maybe I better get to the chapter....  
  
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Dèsirèè stared at Jack blankly. "Wha?"  
  
Jack was walking around her in a circle, looking her up and down. She took a step back. "Will you cut that out? I know you look something like a vulture but that doesn't mean you have to act like one!"  
  
He had either not heard the insult or he had chosen to ignore it. Jack stood back, his hands on his hips. He grinned. "I knew there was something wrong with you!"  
  
Dèsirèè stared at him with concern. "You have gone absolutely insane haven't you?" Then she looked down at her self. "Oh, that's what you mean," she murmured. She had yet to put on her coat and she had lost her hat long ago. Nevertheless, she doubted its floppy brim could have hidden her obviously feminine form. Dèsirèè looked back up at Jack, who was still staring, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Well, it's not that surprising is it? Cause if it is, I've gotten way too good at this. And will you please stop staring! Mon Dieu!"  
  
Her shouting jarred Jack from what was a rather pleasant fantasy. "Hm? What? Oh, no, not that surprising."  
  
Dèsirèè heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. I don't suppose this," she gestured to her body in a general way, "will create any problems in our agreement?"  
  
Jack stepped closer to her, trying, and succeeding, to look as nonchalant as possible. "Well, I don't have a problem with it, luv. Besides, it might make this whole venture a bit more..." he was very close to her now and he began running his fingers lightly up and down her arm, "...interesting."  
  
Dèsirèè sighed wearily. "Okay, now its time for the disclaimer." She cleared her throat and recited with a complete lack of emotion: "If you touch me, I will rip out your intestines, strangle you with them until your eyeballs pop out of their sockets and feed them to you for dinner."  
  
Jack took a large step backwards, "Right then." He smiled wickedly and motioned her forward, "After you madam."  
  
Dèsirèè sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. This could get annoying. She slipped the baggy coat over her shoulders and took a step forward. She stopped, turned around, and swept her hat up off the ground. Dèsirèè pulled the hat down over her ice blue eyes. "You first, Mr. Sparrow."  
  
He turned and began to walk forward, mumbling to himself. "Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
She smiled and followed him down the dirty street.  
  
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Okay, now is the time when I have to say some major "thank you"'s and "I'm so sorry"'s. First thank you so much to my friends Morgan, Ashley, and Madeline for encouraging me to *coughbullyingmeintocough* finally getting started again on this story. And now, I AM SOOOO SORRY to all those readers who kept on coming day after day to see if my story was updated. Now it is!  
  
Adios Amigos  
  
Thousand Faces 


	8. Train of Thought

Disclaimer: I own my body, my heart, and my mind. Unfortunately, I sold my soul on e-bay. Got a pretty good price for it too wink. Come one, you guys know that I only Dèsirèè Moore and Pete (to be introduced) and that Jack, Tortuga, and the Black Pearl are not mine. Also, there is one line of dialogue that does not belong to me. It is from the movie Victor Victoria. See if you can pick it out!  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I'm baaaaaack!!!!!! Yahooo!!!! confetti is thrown in the air, streamers come down, and a few of those party whistles are blown I know it's been forever! But I do have an excuse! audience mutters: yeah, well it better be a good excuse Number 1: I needed to take a little time to figure a few things out about meself. Ya know, which one of my thousand faces really belongs to me. I think I found it. Happy finger dance y'all. Number 2: I got so many reviews asking for longer chapters that I slaved (see that, me slaving for you) over this chapter trying to get it longer. And I hope you little readers are happy with it! Muah! the audience cringes and several people say 'ewewewewew!' Oh and one more thing: every time you are reading one of the pirates thoughts you will see surrounding the text.  
  
The two pirates walked side by, their boots echoing on the cobble stone street. The roads leading down to the waterfront were pretty much deserted, except for a few drunks stumbling back to their assorted ships. The stone houses that were lining the street threw the eerie sounds of the night back at Dèsirèè and Jack.  
  
Neither of them spoke. Both of them were absorbed in their own trains of thoughts.  
  
So this is the famous Liam Innis, Jack thought, glancing over at the woman walking next to him. The great Liam Innis. Rumor has it that the man, eh, woman started pirating at the age of 14. Raised up from elegant beginnings, Innis decided to use his, em, her enormous wealth to get more. A brilliant swordsman and educated about mostly everything, he (damn!) she was said to be a fair match for the most accomplished sailor or scholar. Not a lot was known about hi – her. But I'm sure that most of the rumors about the man, er, woman is just that: rumors. But... He peeked at her again, noticing the gentle curves of her body. ...one can never be quite sure....hmmm....  
  
While Jack was debating this issue in his head, Dèsirèè was following her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly sure that Captain Sparrow was paying attention to the disclaimer. He was looking at her with a certain fascination that worried her. She really hoped that she wouldn't have to rip his intestines out. That would be the third one this year. Dèsirèè sighed. Not that she would mind having a little fun, she decided, looking over his lean, well-muscled body. However, she had learned long ago that business and pleasure did not mix well with pirating. But deception and treachery fit right in. She sighed again. How long had it been? Two, three years? Five? She shook her head distastefully. Dèsirèè Moore, you're such a weakling sometimes. She despised weakness.  
  
The silence seemed almost overpowering by now, filled with unspoken thoughts. It was beginning to bother Jack so he decided to talk with Dèsirèè about this treasure business. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to utter a single slurred syllable, he was surprise to see Dèsirèè vanish before his eyes. He blinked. He blinked again. Nope, she still hadn't reappeared. Jack tried rubbing his eyes several times; just to make sure they hadn't tricked him. Upon, further investigation he found that Dèsirèè had simply sidestepped into a doorway. The room that he was now peering into resembled a much neglected hotel lobby. There was a plump man sitting behind a desk on the right side of the room. The man was obviously extremely upset about something as he was screaming loudly at the ceiling.  
  
"And another thing!" the fat man cried at the thin wood ceiling above him. "I don't approve of 'ow you keep that room of yours. It's filthy!"  
  
"Number One," shouted a voice from upstairs that Jack immediately recognized as Dèsirèè's, "You shouldn't be in my room and number two," she said, her had poking around the corner, "It was filthy when I got here."  
  
The fat man shrieked indignantly, "Oy, that's me wife's cleaning ye just insulted! And it's MY room, you are just renting it, ye git!" He mumbled to himself as Dèsirèè finished walking down the stairs and to the desk. "The things I take the things I take! The missus screamin' at me 'bout how I'm ne'er at home, damn children crying and bawlin' to me at all hours of the night—"  
  
"A sad story to be sure, Pete, but I'd be much obliged if you would tell me how much I owe you." interjected Dèsirèè.  
  
"25 shillings." Pete stated promptly before going back to his rant, "Not like you'd ever pay. The whores are more prompt in their payments than ye for chris' sake. Ye," he pointed a chubby finger at her accusingly, "Are probably the only reason me children are starving!"  
  
"Yes, well," she said, swinging the sack that she had managed to retrieve from her small room off her shoulder and beginning to rummage through it, "I never did like children."  
  
"Yous 'eartless, you is! Absolutely 'eartless! No wonder the world in such state. Everyone so bloody –" Dèsirèè plopped a small pouch onto the desk. Pete grabbed the bag hungrily, empting the coins out onto the desk top so he could count them, "– greedy."  
  
Pete threw the leather pouch back to Dèsirèè and she caught it deftly with one hand. She put it back in her knapsack as Pete continued to whine. "And now that ye've finally paid ye bill, ye can get the hell out of my establishment!"  
  
Dèsirèè looked up from her bag as she threw it over her shoulder. "Oh, don't make it sound like such a threat. Being thrown out of this place is significantly better than being thrown out of a leper colony."  
  
She walked back outside to and slammed the door on the string of curses that followed her. As Dèsirèè readjusted her coat and bag, Jack cocked his head to one side and asked, "How did ye do that?"  
  
She looked up at him, blinking. "What DO you mean?"  
  
Was it possible she didn't notice? "Ye little," he gestured wildly with his hands, forcing Dèsirèè to step back, "disappearing act."  
  
Was he really that dense? "I didn't 'disappear'; I just stepped into a doorway."  
  
Did she really think he was that thick? "I could see that, luv, but how did ye do it without me noticing?"  
  
She thought for a second. When did she learn to do that? Dèsirèè's mind reeled back to a small market place in Marseille, France. A little girl of no more than five, with long brown hair and crystal blue eyes ran through the crowd, dodging people and giggling as she ran. Suddenly, two callused hands grabbed the little girl and lifted her off the ground. The small babe was soon brought nose to nose with her very angry mother. "Dèsirèè Rebecca Moore where 'ave you been!!" The woman shook the child gently, "You've scared me and your father half to death! Don't ye ever disappear like that again!"  
  
"Come, come, Isabelle, don't be too hard on the girl."  
  
A pair of long elegant hands plucked her from her mother's grasp. The man who was now holding the young child was tall and thin, with short brown hair and green eyes. The little girl clung to the man and buried her head into the soft fabric of his clothing. Her mother continued to fume as her father gently stroked the child's hair.  
  
"You're the one who teaches her these bad 'abits, Erik!"  
  
"Calm yourself Isabelle. It's not my fault she's a bright child." Erik held the child away from his body and talked to her with a melodious voice. "Un femme petite intelligente, mais oui! Très intelligente..."  
  
The icy blue eyes of Isabelle softened as the little child giggled and reached out, flailing her tiny arms. "Ay, you're right. Maybe I should start teaching her 'ow to fence..." she said speculatively, looking at the child with new interest.  
  
"Isabelle!" exclaimed Erik. "She's not even seven yet!"  
  
Isabelle shrugged her shoulders with a roughish smile on her face. "It's not me fault the child's a quick learner." The man smiled and pulled the woman close to him, a content child still lounging in his arms.  
  
"Well?" asked Jack impatiently.  
  
Dèsirèè was snapped back to the present at the sound of his voice, a few threads of the memory still lingering about her. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn't know and continued to walk on. Jack shook his head and followed. He could tell that she was going to be hard to work with.  
  
They could hear the gentle lapping of the waves as they got nearer to the docks.  
  
"You know, I never did ask you, what's the name of you ship?" she said, just as the reached the docks.  
  
Both of them stopped.  
  
"Is that it?" she asked.  
  
Jack nodded proudly. "Ay."  
  
...  
  
"Ye sure?"  
  
"Ay." Jack glanced over a Dèsirèè. Upon first meeting her, Jack had gotten the impression the very few things surprised or impressed the woman. He was happy to see that the Black pear was one of those few things. As they made their way onto the deck, he watched her run her long, supple fingers gently along the railings of the ship. When they got all the way on deck she stood in the middle of the ship and looked up into the rigging, her hands on her hips, the bright moonlight reflecting off her pale face.  
  
"What do you think of her?" Jack inquired.  
  
Dèsirèè looked up a little longer before saying, "Mm, not bad."  
  
Jack sputtered disbelievingly. "No—not, not bad??"  
  
Dèsirèè turned and grinned. "Not bad."  
  
Jack gestured below deck. "The grand tour is just getting' started."  
  
Dèsirèè followed him below and walked down a long hallway. As they were walking, the sounds of shouting and drunken laughter could be clearly heard. Dèsirèè raised an eyebrow as several loud crashes echoed throughout the hallway. "Is your whole crew here?" she questioned.  
  
"Ay." replied Jack turning right down another hallway, "I was expecting to sail in the mornin' after taking on a few supplies and the like, so I managed to round up me crew. I was just going out for the supplies," he stopped in a doorway, "When I got a little..." he looked her up and down meaningfully, "side tracked."  
  
Dèsirèè made an apologetic gesture as Jack opened the door to the captain's cabin. "Please make yeself at home."  
  
Was it long enough for you? Hmmmm? Was it?? I hope you all appreciate this chappie. I expected to get a lot of presents. The audience raises an eyebrow at her Well, at least some reviews. Always I would just like to say that this chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends, Morgan, who is moving to West Virginia tomorrow. I LUV YOU MORGS!!  
  
Adios Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces 


	9. Disbelief Runs Rampant

Disclaimer: I own a dog. I own a CD player. I own Dèsirèè (no touchy). I don't own a car. I don't own my soul (sold it on eBay. Get with the 21st century). I don't own the Black Pearl, Gibbs, Anna Maria, or Jack. Really sad about that one. Not too sad about my soul.  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Hello everybody! Looks around the audience. Sees that they have all fallen asleep and have begun to collect dust. Oops. nervous laugh I guess I haven't updated in a while. It's only been... (counts on her fingers)... (counts on her toes)...41 days ago since I updated. I would appreciate as many reviews as possible on this chappie to see if anyone is still reading. Even if you just say "good job", "great", "this sucks", or "baaaaddd". Every little bit helps!  
  
Adios Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces  
  
P.S. The first paragraph of this chapter was written by my good friend and fellow author vamperfly. Go check out her stuff if ye want!  
  
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Dèsirèè stepped into the room and looked around in amusement. The cabin itself would be nice...had the inhabitant actually cared about what their room looked like. The walls were made of wood, naturally, as was the furniture: one king sized bed (was that a breast band poking out from under a pillow?), a couch a desk, and a few chairs. The walls were decorated with a portrait of a young man, most likely dead, a stuffed fish, and some very old maps.  
  
As she made a careful trek over to one of the chairs, Gibbs entered the room. "Cap'n." Gibbs saluted. Jack waved back vaguely. "Cap'n the men are gettin' a tad –" there was a large crash behind him "...restless. We still leavin' port at dawn?"  
  
Jack glanced at Dèsirèè, who had removed her coat and hat and was now slumped contentedly in a chair, her long limbs sprawling. "Does dawn suit us, luv?" inquired Jack.  
  
Dèsirèè straightened up and put a hand to her chin. "That should be fine, pumpkin."  
  
Jack blinked several times before narrowing his eyes into slits. "Don't ever call me 'pumpkin'."  
  
Dèsirèè rose from her chair and walked over to Jack and Gibbs. "Then don't call me 'luv'..." she paused, smiling cattily, "...pumpkin."  
  
Gibbs looked from Jack to Dèsirèè and then slowly back to Jack. "Uh, cap'n?"  
  
Jack stopped glaring at Dèsirèè and stepped to the side so that the two could view each other clearly. "This is me first mate; goes by Gibbs. Gibbs, this be the great Liam Innis, who goes by Dèsirèè Moore."  
  
Dèsirèè offered her hand to Gibbs. Gibbs stared at her blankly, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. He did, Dèsirèè mused, look remarkably like a giant codfish. Gibbs shook his head as if trying to regain focus. His eyes still fixed on Dèsirèè as he said, "Cap'n, c-can I have a word with ye?"  
  
"Certainly." Jack turned to Dèsirèè. "There's a spare room down the hall and 'round the corner. No one ever uses it. Ye can go get settled in, lu–" He bit down hard on his tongue, suppressing the 'luv' that was about to escape.  
  
Dèsirèè smirked, stooped down to grab her pack, glided past the two men and walked through the door.  
  
"Jack," said Gibbs as soon as Dèsirèè was well on her way, "Liam Innis is supposed to be a MAN."  
  
Jack nodded.  
  
Gibbs continued, now looking slightly worried. "You do realize that THAT," he pointed to Dèsirèè's retreating figure, "is a woman."  
  
Jack leaned back calmly against the door frame. "I did notice."  
  
"Oh I don't like it one bit, Jack!" exclaimed Gibbs. "A woman on board can only bring trouble." Gibbs paused. "Excepting Anna Maria o' course."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"How do ye know that girls who she says she is?" pushed Gibbs. "I don't like the look of 'er."  
  
Jack leaned out into the hallway, looking Dèsirèè up and down as she rounded the corner.  
  
"I do..."  
  
..................  
  
She walked down the hallway, feeling the sway of the ship beneath her feet. It had been awhile. Dèsirèè found herself smiling. There was nothing she loved more than the sea. For the past 3 years she had ignored its call, ignored the sweet song of its waves, the beauty of the sea at night, the smell of salt filling the nostrils. She shook her head. Three years was far too long.  
  
As she rounded the corner of the hallway she quickly located the spare room that Jack had mentioned. As she went to turn the door knob she noticed that the door was slightly open. "Didn't he say that nobody uses this room?" she thought to herself, for once perplexed. But, when she listened closely she could definitely hear sounds coming from inside. She slowly and quietly opened the door. She stepped back quickly. This room was not empty. Very much not empty. She stood back in surprise for a moment before leaning in, looking inside the room. "How do you bend like that?" she asked.  
  
The two people that had been occupying the room (but mostly the bed) jumped apart, the man uttering an exclamation of "It's me wife!" and the woman cursing the air blue.  
  
As the woman grabbed a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her otherwise clothes-less body, Dèsirèè began making hasty apologies. "I am really sorry about this but I was under the impression that the room was empty." The woman made her way to the doorway. "Obviously I was very, very misinformed."  
  
The woman glared angrily at Dèsirèè. Her long black hair was falling into her round, dark face and it was clear that she was incredibly not happy. "Who the hell are you?" she shouted.  
  
"Liam Innis," Dèsirèè said inclining her head slightly, "Or you can call me Dèsirèè Moore whichever you prefer."  
  
The woman looked her up and down, a sneer coming on her face. "What do you take me for, a fool? If you're Liam Innis, I'm a French whore."  
  
"Well..." Dèsirèè coughed slightly and looked from her wrapped in the blanket to the man still in bed meaningfully.  
  
If possible, the woman looked even angrier than before. "You bloody little –"  
  
It was at this opportune moment that Jack came waltzing down the hall. "What's all this then?" he asked, just reaching the doorway. He looked from Dèsirèè to Anna Maria, and then inside the room. He leaned forward slightly until he realized what had been happening inside and took several steps backwards.  
  
"Jack," demanded Anna Maria, "tell me who this is."  
  
"Who, her? That's Liam Innis. But her real name's Dèsirèè...um...Moore, that's it."  
  
Anna Maria looked from Jack to Dèsirèè and then back to Jack. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive. Now, Ms. Moore," Dèsirèè rolled her eyes, "since this room is occupied," he waggled his eyebrows to which Anna Maria also rolled her eyes, "there's a small room just off of my quarters that you can occupy."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"And now I would like to have a word with you about this map of yours."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
As Jack and Dèsirèè began to move away from the room, Anna Maria grabbed Dèsirèè's arm. "Oh, Innis," Anna Maria crooned as she pulled her back. "I'll be watching you, mate. You better not put one toe out of line or..."  
  
"I am trembling in fear, I assure you." responded Dèsirèè dryly. She flicked of Anna Maria's hand and followed Jack back down the hall way.  
  
When Dèsirèè caught up with him she asked, "Who was that unhappy person?"  
  
"That's Anna Maria. Best stay on her good side."  
  
She sighed. "Too late."  
  
................  
  
If you can tell I am truly trying to make my chapters consistently longer. Now if you're worried that I won't update this for months, let me lay your fears to rest. Up from this point I already have the basic storyline for at least 4 more chapters. Keep your chin up!  
  
Adios Amigos,  
  
Thousand Faces. 


	10. Spelling Things Out

Disclaimer: I own all the dialogue, description, and basically all the words in this chapter. I also own Dèsirèè. I don't own Jack, the Black Pearl, or Jack's sexiness. I also have misplaced my mind. If you find it, please return it to the following address:

666 Devil's Drawers Drive

Room 667 (I'm the neighbor of the beast)

The Bowels of Hell

Author's Note: Would you look at that! I'm actually updating when I said I would! I said I would update in a month and, indeed, it is exactly one month! WOOT! I actually did what I promised. (Thousand Faces sees herd of pigs fly outside window) Okay this chapter is kind of my 'They haven't got me into high school yet, those bastards!' chapter. I actually have the next chapter half way typed up so I might post again tomorrow. Wouldn't that be just too kooky? (It starts snowing in hell)

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After making their way back up the hallway, Jack walked back across his room, stepping on many of the various objects littering his floor without faltering. Dèsirèè however was kept busy jumping over things to keep from squashing them. Jack, completely oblivious to Dèsirèè's plight, continued walking until he reached a map of the Caribbean that was nailed to the wall. He turned around to see Dèsirèè haphazardly hop scotching towards him, her arms flailing to keep her balance. Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

Dèsirèè looked up, her eyebrow raised warningly. This only succeeded in making her look more ridiculous as she was standing on one foot and strongly resembled an angry flamingo. Jack's smile widened.

"Have you heard of the concept of 'picking things up' Jack?" asked Dèsirèè, still stranded in the middle of the room.

"Oh aye." Jack walked over to her. "Forgive me for not doing this sooner." Jack bended down to the floor.

"I know it's none of me business but this room is-" Dèsirèè let out a cry as Jack, quite literally, lifted her up off of her feet, cradled her in his arms, and began to walk back to the wall. "Bloody 'ell, what do you think your doing ye git?" shouted Dèsirèè swatting at his hands.

"Picking up."

"If ye don't want various parts of your body to be served to ye for supper, I strongly suggest you PUT ME DOWN!"

"Well, I understand I'm delicious. Want a taste luv?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Dèsirèè pulled his hat over his eyes. Being suddenly blinded, Jack dropped her abruptly. Luckily, she managed to land on her feet, wobbling slightly. She turned to Jack who was still struggling with his hat. "Jack, let me put this as bluntly as possible," Jack managed to uncover his eyes; "I'm really...really not interested." She pulled his hat tautly over his head again, causing him to curse profusely.

Turning away from the now sightless Jack, Dèsirèè looked at the map hung on the wall. Upon closer inspection of the wall, she could see a rectangular line that seemed to form the shape of a door. Running her hands over the wall, she found, inside a knot hole, a small space large enough for only two fingers. Dèsirèè placed her fingers in the hole and pulled. The hidden door swung open. She poked her head inside cautiously. Fortunately for her, it was nothing more than a room. If you could call it a room. It was more like a box with a bed and a table in it. Still, Dèsirèè mused, it was considerably better than sleeping in an, uh, used bed.

When she turned back to Jack, he was spinning around in circles, trying to remove the tight hat from on top of his head. Dèsirèè burst out laughing. "Jack, did you ever consider a career in dance? You would make a wonderful ballerina."

Jack turned to what he thought was Dèsirèè (a tall lamp) and began shouting, "Ye are trying me patience Moore. I suggest ye show your captain a little more respect than that or ye can get the 'ell off me ship!"

"MY captain? Oh, I don't like the sound of that. Well I suppose me and my map will just leave than, shall we?" she made a move towards the cabin door, making the floorboards squeak.

Jack knew that that was the sound of money walking out the door. He really did not like that sound.

"Now just wait one bloody minute," he cried reaching out to grip the lamppost as if it we're a fleeing criminal. He stopped speaking when he slowly realized that what he was holding was not Dèsirèè's wrist. He heard her laugh again.

"In today's lesson," she said, walking over and removing Jack's hat, "we learn that you need me a lot more than I need you. Let's keep that in mind shall we?" Dèsirèè grinned evilly and made her way over to one of the chairs in front of Jack's desk. He followed her, stepping behind the desk and plopping down in his leather chair. "Fine. But I'm warning you, keep this up and I won't care how much treasure I'll lose. I'll throw that shapely arse of yours into the ocean."

Dèsirèè flinched noticeably, the laughter dieing out of her eyes, her limbs stiffening.

"What is it?" asked Jack, his curiosity peaked.

"Nothing." Her voice was clipped and cold. Jack actually found himself shivering slightly. "You wanted to talk about the map, yes?"

"Um, yeah, I think it'd be best if I could see it."

Dèsirèè shook her head vigorously. "If you see that map than there's no reason for me to be in on this venture. You could kill me and then take my share of the treasure. Strangely enough, I would prefer to live."

Jack's eyes narrowed. What was that supposed to mean? "Alright, what's your plan then?"

"I'll tell you where to go. Every time we reach a destination, I'll give you the next pair coordinates. When we're nearing the island, I'll take over steering. We get filthy rich. Everyone goes home happy."

"You're askin' me to put a lot of trust in ye, luv."

"I'm sure you can manage it..." she smiled, but weakly this time, "pumpkin."

Jack winced. He was really going to have to work on that. He couldn't have her call him that in front of the crew. They'd never let him live it down.

"Anything else?" asked Dèsirèè

"Just one more thing. Those men, the ones we fought with-"

"That was nothing I assure you. We shouldn't expect any trouble from them."

Jack eyed her suspiciously. She answered that awfully fast. "They mentioned a name, a Capn. Thorn."

Once again, Dèsirèè's crystal blue eyes turned to ice. "Someone I owe a little money to. But, the last time I checked he was only the captain of a fishing sloop."

"I see." There was something she wasn't telling him, he knew it. But what?

"If you don't mind," said Dèsirèè, rising from her chair, "I think I'll turn in."

"Be my guest."

She went to the hidden door and opened it. As she was stepping inside, Jack called after her. "If the bed seems a little cold I could always come in there and-"

"GOODNIGHT, Sparrow."

"G'night. Oh wait!" he said as Dèsirèè was closing the door.

"What is it?" she poked her head back into the room

"You haven't told me where to set me course tomorrow."

"Oh. We're going to..."

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MWHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! BWHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! MW-BW-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Evil cliffie! I'm so proud of meself. Satan is too. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my new home, River Hill High School. Yes I actually am showing school spirit. (Demons begin ice skating)

Adios Amigos,

Thousand Faces.


	11. Captain Thorn

Disclaimer: For once, I actually own most of this chapter. Jack and the Black Pearl are not mine. But everything else is. Isn't that just too kooky?

Author's Note: Hey guys! I know, I'm updating so quickly it's scary. But my muse saw fit to give up some vacation time to come home and help me crank out another chappie for y'all. On another note, you may have noticed that the rating has changed from R back to PG-13. The reason for this is that I simply can't decide what people under 13 shouldn't read. If you ever come across something in any of my chapters that you believe should make this fic upgraded to R, please review and tell me. Thankie kindly!

Adios Amigos,

Thousand Faces

P.S. My good friend twilightlafae helped me a lot with the final paragraphs of this chapter. Go check out her stuff!

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"Remind me again why we 'ave to go to Port Royal?" asked Jack for the fiftieth time. He stood at the helm of the ship, guiding the wheel gently with only slight turns.

Dèsirèè was balancing precariously on the railing of the ship, back leaning against one of the clusters of rigging, her floppy hat pulled over her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. She was almost certain Jack had brought a whore back to his room after she'd gone to bed. At least that's what it sounded like. She sighed deeply, "This is the last time I am going to say this: one, you are in dire need of supplies-"

Jack grumbled something to the effect of "I wouldn't be if I hadn't met you."

"And two," she said, a bit louder as to drown out his complaining, "If you want the treasure, you're going to need what's in Port Royal."

"What could possibly be so important to finding the treasure in Port Royal, hm?" Jack was slightly irritable today. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night as he had been extremely busy entertaining a very respectable young lady. At least she had been respectable until she met him. "We already got the map, what else do we need?"

Dèsirèè pulled her hat farther down on her head. "What do you need to open a treasure chest Jack?"

"A key o' course."

Dèsirèè clicked her tongue. "Now he's gettin' it."

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Squib was dead. The remaining attacker could see that. In fact, it would seem that he was the only one who was still breathing. The man picked himself up, and looked around nervously. He could run right now. His cousin had that place up in England and Thorn would never be able to find him.

No. That wasn't true and the pirate knew it. HE would always find you. And then it'd be worse.

Slowly and reluctantly, the brigand made his way back to the docks. Instead of traveling the way Dèsirèè and Jack had gone, the man slinked to the very end of the dock, where a huge ship was anchored. The figurehead was that of a skeleton holding a book and a rose. After checking in with the two men watching the gang plank, the surviving swordsman was led nervously below deck.

As he and the two guards we're walking down the raucous hallway, the man could perceive a shrill sound in the distance as he and his escorts drew near. It wasn't until they stopped in front of a door that the man realized the noises were human screams. The guards pushed the door open.

A man sat hunched over a small desk in the back of the room, scratching determinedly on a piece of paper. "Day 7," the man said aloud as he wrote, "My dear friend Jason is still alive. I must remember-" Another moan pierced the air. The man writing gave a heavy sigh. "Pardon me Jason, but would you mind not moving? You're taking away my light." The surviving pirate looked up to the person the man was talking to. Almost immediately, he had to turn away his eyes and retch onto the floor.

Jason, if that was indeed the man's name, was hanging from the wall, his hands and feet chained to keep him upright. At various places of the man's body, the skin and muscle had been gouged out, creating pockets of human tissue. Inside each of these holes had been placed a burning candle that slowly was searing the skin. The man's eyes had been gouged out and his fingers removed completely. A large puddle of blood had formed at his feet. The man who was sitting at the desk leaned down, dipped his pen in the pool of blood and went back to his writing. "Now where was I? Oh yes. 'I must remember this treatment for my other guests. It has proven quite enjoyable.'"

The bandit cleared his throat. The man at the desk straightened. "Yes?" he purred.

"Cap'n Thorn?"

Thorn turned around, stood, and walked towards the brigand. Thorn was of about average weight and height. His black hair was put up in a small ponytail that was beginning to become undone. His face was smooth and bronzed. One could say the most unusual feature of Thorn's was his eyes. They were a deep, deep black. If you looked into them long enough, it was possible that you would tumble into that merciless abyss and be trapped forever. There was something about them that made a dissatisfied glance bore into ones soul. Thorn was dressed in elegant night black slacks and an ebony vest underneath which was a white shirt. A ruby cravat was tied around his neck and gold cufflinks sparkled from his sleeves. Several emerald and jade rings were slipped onto his slim fingers. All and all he was not an unattractive man, but his soul was as black and rotten as Jason's melting flesh.

"So you've returned Taps," said Thorn with a casual air, "Where are the others?" Taps' eyes were fixed on the man hanging on the wall. Thorn turned to look. "Ah yes, do you like it. Rather a devilish little trick I picked up in Persia. I'm so happy that it's gone over as well as it has. Isn't that right Jason?" Jason moaned. "Well," said Thorn, turning back to Taps, "He doesn't talk much." Thorn threw his hands into the air. "But where are the others?"

"Well, uh, sir, we ran into a bit o' trouble-" stammered Taps.

"It was a very simple task Taps," mused Thorn, dusting off his clothes and attempting to rub out a blood stain on his white shirt, "Find Dèsirèè Moore, follow Dèsirèè, and get the map, using force if necessary. Now tell me Taps," said Thorn, his voice lowering to growl, "What was so difficult about that?"

"Cap'n," whimpered Taps pathetically, backing away from Thorn slowly, "We 'ad her Cap'n we did! 'Er and the map."

"And you let her get away. I'm less than pleased Taps. You know what kind of mood I get in when I'm upset."

"It wasn't me fault Cap'n, I swear!" cried Taps. "We followed her from the bar just like ye said!" His back bumped into the wall. There was no where left to run. "There was another man with 'er!" Taps shouted his last bid for salvation.

Thorn stopped. "A man you say?" Thorn's interested was peaked. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive Cap'n," the pirate confirmed, shaking with relief.

Thorn turned away and began pacing the room, his fine leather boots tapping softly on the wood. "I'm certain that you had the brains to find out his name." Thorn turned back to Taps, hands clasped behind his back, eyebrow raised in question, "Didn't you?"

Even Taps, who was by no means the brightest pirate on Thorn's crew, understood that that was not a question, but a threat. "Uh...I believe 'e said 'e was....uh..."

Thorn sighed and brought his hands up to his face. "Taps don't make me do something that's going to ruin my clothes."

It was amazing how the threat of a long and painful death seemed to jog one's memory. "Sparrow!" Taps cried out triumphantly. "Jack Sparrow, that's wha' 'e said!"

Thorn's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Sparrow? You don't say? Really, I expected...hmmmm..." Thorn said, more to himself then to Taps.

Taps glanced nervously at 'Jason' or what was left of 'Jason'.

"Cap'n, should, I, uh, leave, sir?" he asked, trying not to gag as Jason tried to move and sent out a stream of crimson blood.

The Captain waved his hands vaguely, lost in his own thoughts. Taps took this as a yes, and side stepped hurriedly to the door.

"Taps?" Thorne asked, almost absentmindedly. Taps glanced nervously back at his Captain.

"Yes?" he said, voice quivering with fear.

Thorn beckoned to the terrified pirate.

"I've yet to reward you for your information," he said, beckoning. Every instinct screamed to run, but greed won over and Taps stepped nearer to his Captain.

"Aye, sir?" he asked. Taps never saw the dagger until it was firmly imbedded into his stomach, and twisted cruelly. His eyes widened in surprise, and then glazed over in death. He fell to the floor, his mouth still open in pain and surprise.

Thorn looked down at his newly stained shirt and swore. "There goes another expensive shirt," he muttered to himself. Jason moaned in response. Thorn ignored him, pulled off the shirt and threw it into a steadily growing pile of blood stained garments.

.........................................................................................................

Okay guys, now you know who the mysterious Captain Thorn is. Did you like him? Did you hate him? TELL ME!! singing Talk to me! gets slapped Please, I would really appreciate reviews on this chapter. This was my first time writing a torture scene and I want to know how I did.

Overview of next chapter:

Characters: Jack, Dèsirèè, WILL, ELIZABETH, NORRINGTON, CINDY, and a host of others.

Place: PORT ROYAL

Adios Amigos,

Thousand Faces


	12. Port Royal Part 1: Getting Closer

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't have time to write. I'd be busy doing…other things….::looks at Jack longingly::

Author's Note: HIGH SCHOOL IS NUTS!!!!!!!!!!!! I haven't had any time (or juice) to write more since it started. But at least I'm getting in a chappie before the end of the year right?! ::audience glares:: Moving on! Yes my darlings, we are very very close to bringing in some of our most beloved characters!:

Commodore Norrington!!

Elizabeth!! (crickets, pin-drop)

Will!!

PERCY DA PUG!!

This chapter is actually part of a 3 or 4 part Port Royal sprint. Enjoy!!!

Realizing that having one of the most famous pirate ships in the world sail into Port Royal in broad daylight might cause some commotion, Jack anchored his beloved Pearl behind a cliff just out of sight of the port. Jack and Dèsirèè were therefore inclined to row towards the dock in a small dingy.

"So," started Jack, eager to learn more about the map which Dèsirèè claimed to hold in her possession, "How did you happen to come across this map, eh?"

"A friend left it to me, many years ago." Dèsirèè was suddenly very focused on rowing.

"Ye do realize, lu-….um…Dèsirèè, if we two are going to be…working together in a sense of the word, ye're going to have to tell me things occasionally?"

"Alright," said Dèsirèè, looking down at her feet, "Ye want me to tell ye something? The boat is leaking!"

Jack looked down and saw that this was indeed a fact. There was a thin crack in the bottom of the boat and the water was slowly seeping through. "Well that does create a bit of a problem…" he said, looking up at Dèsirèè's frowning face.

"Yes it does. Jesus Jack, it's amazing that your entire boat isn't falling apart! How long would it take you to check and see if any of your things had HOLES IN THEM?!"

Jack was ignoring her chiding and busied himself with carefully judging how far away the docks were from their present position and how quickly the boat was taking in water. "We'll be fine." He decided.

"Fine if you don't mind swimming." retorted Dèsirèè. She stood up slowly and took off her coat.

Jack watched her, his head cocked slightly to the side. She took off her hat as well and rolled it up inside her coat, which she tucked under her arm. His eyebrows shot up when she began to unbutton the first few buttons of her shirt.

"I'm more than willin', luv, but do ye think this is the time or the place?"

Dèsirèè stopped her preparations, confused. She looked down at Jack, whose face clearly displayed his meaning. "Tell me Jack, is sex on your mind constantly?"

"Only when you're around luv." He grinned.

She grimaced. "Jack…it's just not gonna happen." With that, she dived gracefully overboard and began swimming towards the docks.

Jack stepped onto the deck and shook off the water that had gotten onto his boots. The small boat glubbed despairingly and finally sank.

Jack looked around, taking note of the few officers strolling about the area. Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, a difficult task for Jack, he stepped off of the docks and onto the beach.

Dèsirèè pulled herself onto the sand, throwing her hat and coat farther up onto the beach. Her vision somewhat impaired by saltwater, she blinked several times. Each time her eyes opened and closed two shapes just in front of her face became clearer and clearer.

Boots.

Dèsirèè's eyes slowly traveled up from the boots and into Jack's grinning face.

"Did ye enjoy your swim, luv?"

Dèsirèè paused for a moment and collected her thoughts.

"Yes thank you."

Jack smiled and offered Dèsirèè his hand. She stared at it suspiciously.

"I'm not gonna bite ye." said Jack softly. "Well, at least not too hard." He grinned widely.

In a rare moment of complete unguarded emotion…Dèsirèè smiled back. She clasped his hand and pulled herself up. She paused to brush off some of the sand on her clothes while Jack retrieved her coat and hat.

"So," he said, handing her her effects, "What do we do now?"

Dèsirèè pulled the hat firmly onto her head. "We call on an old friend."

Jack and Dèsirèè made their way into the heart of Port Royal, hats pulled low over their eyes to avoid any recognition. Dèsirèè was silent, trying to remember her way down the crowded streets, turning occasionally down alley ways to avoid human traffic. Jack was having rather a hard time staying with her as she very rarely told him when she was leaving the main road. Upon one of these ventures, Jack didn't notice Dèsirèè was gone for a good 5 minutes and then had to backtrack recklessly in order to find what bizarre side street she had decided to embark down. He ran to catch up with her, grabbing her arm to make her stop.

"What??" Dèsirèè asked, affronted, wrenching her arm away from his irritated grasp.

"Do you ever think that it would be nice to TELL me when you're going to wander off?" Jack interrogated, very much out of breath.

"I'm not wandering," said Dèsirèè defensively. "I know precisely where I'm going. YOU should watch where I'M going."

"M'dear," said Jack leaning back on a non-existent wall, "Half the time, I don't watch where I'M going. What makes you think I'll pay any more attention to you?"

Dèsirèè stood still for a moment, considering his question. "Because I'm going to get you lots of money," she said simply.

Jack started and smiled at her. "Right. Lead the way!" Dèsirèè shook her head and continued on. "Just don't pull one of you disappearing acts, alright?" Dèsirèè smiled wickedly. At that particular moment, several things happened very quickly; a squadron of soldiers marched noisily down the main street which Jack and Dèsirèè had just reached, a woman flung open her wooden shutters and began shouting at two young boys playing in the street, who shouted back, and Dèsirèè had vanished.

Jack looked around frantically. She had disappeared. Again. He sighed exasperatedly as he pushed past people in the crowd.

She had disappeared. Again. Her footsteps were barely audible over the loud clanging of various pots for sale and the terrified squawking of a chicken about to be made into a dinner for someone. Dèsirèè was barely a shadow to the people she walked past. A cloud covering the sun and nothing more.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have pulled her disappearing act without warning Jack first, but the idea of having to inform him of her whereabouts every minute flamed up a deep rooted sense of rebellion in her. Dèsirèè Moore did NOT need a keeper. Besides, maybe it was best if Jack didn't accompany her to retrieve the key. He was bound to say something to offend Cee and then all hell would break loose.

Day dreaming of her dear friend thrashing the famous pirate royally, Dèsirèè turned down another side street, not really paying attention to where she was going. Her attention was abruptly called to a fair woman in front of her, who was surrounded by three nasty looking characters. The woman had fainted, as many would have in that position, and lie on the ground, completely venerable and helpless to the perverse whims of the three scoundrels, who were giggling wickedly and nudging each other in revolting merriment.

"I think it's about time we showed this respec'able young laday, how to entertain proper gen-tel-men such as ourselves," wheezed one, "Don't you Lyle."

"Oow, indeed, indeed." Snickered Lyle, advancing upon the unfortunate female.

"Oi!" shouted the third, pushing Lyle back forcefully. "I spotted 'er first, I should have 'er first!"

Dèsirèè had seen and heard quite enough. She stepped forward as loudly as she could. "Excuse me!" she shouted at the three men. They turned, wanting to see who had interrupted them in enjoying their spoils. "It seems to me," Dèsirèè continued, "That perhaps you should go the safe road and not touch the lady at all?"

The three vagrants looked at each other, deciding exactly how to respond. "It seems to me," sneered Lyle, "That ye better take the safe road and get the 'ell out of 'ere mate!" His companions laughed and snorted in agreement.

"Alright." said Dèsirèè, drawing her sword calmly, "I guess it's the treacherous road then eh?"

The delinquents drew their swords as well. There was a moment of tense silence.

Dèsirèè looked up to the sky, her face mimicking complete disbelief, "Jesus Christ, what the 'ell is that?!" Not being the brightest fellows in the world, they all turned around to stare up at the empty and harmless sky above them. Dèsirèè took this opportunity to whack Lyle over the head with the butt of her sword, cut the throat of the third has he turned around, and run the second through. After she had disabled the three villains, she bent down to the woman, who lay crumpled on the dirt ground.

"Miss?" called Dèsirèè, trying to revive the girl with gentle slaps, "Are you alright, Mademoiselle??" Dèsirèè removed her hat and fanned the young lady's face, blowing away several loose strands of blonde hair. The woman's blue eyes fluttered open and she breathed lightly. "Are you alright Miss?" inquired Dèsirèè. The woman took one look at Dèsirèè and fainted away yet again. "Miss?" Dèsirèè shook her limp body. "I don't look that bad, do I?" The female pirate didn't notice Lyle looming behind her, sword drawn and ready to plunge into her back. Lucky for Dèsirèè, Jack's sword plunged first, not into her back, but through unfortunate Lyle.

Dèsirèè heard the poor man's gurgling and whipped around just in time to see him fall to the ground. Jack was standing there instead, glaring at her viciously. "Oh, its you." She said, and turned back to the woman to try to revive her for the second time.

"Well, that's a fine 'how do ye do' after I just saved your ruddy neck," said Jack incredulously, "And what were we talking about with your little disappearing acts?"

"First, I would have seen him eventually, and, quite frankly, I can do whatever the hell I want." replied Dèsirèè. Turning to him, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to have any smelling salts on you, would ye?"

Jack sighed, realizing it was useless. "No. And the least I should get is a kiss."

Dèsirèè looked over at the now pouting Jack and, much to his surprise, kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Don't ye think," rushed on Dèsirèè before Jack could say anything, "That we should pick her up and carry her somewhere?"

"Hm?" asked Jack, his mind not really focusing very well. It took him a good 10 seconds before he even realized that there was a woman lying unconscious on the ground. "Oh right, right, right."

Dèsirèè put her hat back on to free up her hands and got behind the lady's shoulders. Jack took her feet. They shuffled out of the alley, Jack first, and were being very successful until Jack's back ran into something fairly immobile. He looked behind him and abruptly dropped the lady's feet, earning a cry of indignation from Dèsirèè. "Ye bloody git!" she shouted at him, lowering their package to the ground gently and standing next to a stunned Jack, "What the 'ell do ye think-" Dèsirèè stopped shouting when she saw who he was staring at.

A/N: maniacal laughter EVIL CLIFFIE!!!! ::lighting bolts:: Yes indeed. You must tune in next time to find out who Jack ran into ::heavy eyebrow action::

Adios Amigos,

Thousand Faces


	13. Port Royal Part 2: The Chase Scenes

Disclaimer: ::singing:: Oh I wish I had the Pirates of the Caribbean... That is what I'd truly like to own....But I don't own the Pirates of the Caribbean....So I am left here all on my own ::crysob::

Author's Note:

Oh yes! I'm updating one last time before the hell that is school begins. One last huzzah for the Thousand Faces now. I really hope you darling readers like this chappie. It took me a while. And it's long. Like you keep begging me to make them. Pay me back with reviews!!!!!

Adios Amigos,

Thousand Faces

* * *

Jack had had the good fortune to run straight into Commodore Norrington and his battalion of soldiers. "Well, well, well," said Norrington, stepping forward with both eyebrows raised, "Jack Sparrow. You've proved me wrong. I didn't think you'd be so dim-witted as to return to Port Royal." 

"Sorry to disappoint you." Jack retorted, smiling.

"I suppose one must get use to disappointments." returned the Commodore, almost smiling. He signaled to two soldiers behind him who took Jack and shackled his hands. Norrington then turned his attention to Dèsirèè. "Now what have we here?" he stepped towards her, "Another pirate headed for the gallows?"

"Hardly," she replied, and whipped off her hat in a graceful bow. "Dèsirèè Moore, at your service, sir." The soldiers all looked properly taken aback and bowed awkwardly.

-Times like these Dèsirèè really enjoyed being a woman.

"Miss Moore," said the Commodore, never losing a step and bowing, only slightly though, "I have to ask, if you are not a pirate, what were you doing in the company of one?"

"Obviously I was not aware that this man," she pointed to Jack vaguely, "was any sort of villain. I merely asked him to assist me in rescuing this," Dèsirèè stepped aside, revealing the still unconscious lady on the ground, "young woman."

"Gloria!" cried the Commodore, kneeling down to the still comatose woman.

Jack snorted in disbelief. "Why is it, my dear Commodore, that every woman you know ends up passed out on the ground? Rather alarming isn't it?"

Norrington looked up at Jack with a cold glare. "This woman is my wife."

"Oh, good," piped Jack cheerfully, "Glad to see that losing your fiancée to a blacksmith didn't dissuade you from finding yourself another girl!"

Luckily for Jack, Gloria was beginning to come to and occupied Norrington's full attention. "Gloria," the Commodore said again, helping his wife back up onto her feet, "Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure," Gloria said breathlessly, leaning heavily on her husband. She caught sight of Dèsirèè and groaned. "Oh no…I don't think I'm quite alright yet… not at all."

"Why?" Norrington glanced quickly over at Dèsirèè, "Did this woman hurt you?"

Dèsirèè looked very affronted. "So that's the thanks somebody gets for saving a life! Remind me never to do it again."

"Will do," assured Jack. Dèsirèè shoot him a quick glare.

"No, no," the poor woman replied, "She died. I'm sure of it." There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at Dèsirèè and then Gloria. Dèsirèè looked extremely confused.

"Maybe your wife should get some rest," suggested Dèsirèè, staring warily at the exhausted lady.

Norrington nodded and called two guards over with instructions to take his wife home. Once all this had been done, he turned back solemnly to Dèsirèè. "If you did indeed save my wife's life, I suppose I should thank you." He held out his hand.

Jack desperately shook his head at Dèsirèè, trying to tell her not to take the Commodore hand. Dèsirèè looked at him strangely and extended her hand to Norrington. He grasped it triumphantly, pushing back her sleeve.

There was nothing on her wrist. Dèsirèè looked up at him with a bored expression. "Are you quite finished?"

The Commodore cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Almost." He wrenched her arm behind her back, turning her around. After immobilizing Dèsirèè in this fashion, Norrington proceeded to pull down the back of her coat and part of her shirt, revealing her bare shoulder. Well, not entirely bare; there, in scarred flesh, was a small 'P', albeit a 'P' with unclear edges.

"The man said I was a bit squeamish," Dèsirèè explained calmly, fidgeting just slightly in the Commodore's firm grip.

"As I suspected," sneered Norrington haughtily.

"You suspected she was squeamish?" questioned Jack, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

Norrington glanced up at him. "No you limp-wristed jackanape." Jack examined his wrists dubiously.

"You know," commented Dèsirèè, the wheels in her head turning wildly, "I never would suppose that someone as well bred as you could have such terrible manners."

"And what, pray tell, would a pirate know about manners?" Inquired the Commodore mockingly, still restraining Dèsirèè.

"A few things," Dèsirèè continued, her mind measuring distances and reaction times, "For instance, I do know that a gentleman should _NEVER_ touch a lady without her express permission."

"Really," inquired Jack in surprise, "Why is that?"

"Yes, why indeed?" asked Norrington, obviously extremely amused.

"Well, she might do something very _un_-lady like," she paused, breathing deeply, "Like THIS!" As hard as she could, Dèsirèè rammed her shoulder into the Commodore's face, pushing him off of her. As soon as she had freed herself, she grabbed the chain between Jack's shackles and pulled him behind her as she darted around the regiment of soldiers.

"What are you waiting for you fools?!" Norrington shouted at his shocked soldiers, regaining his footing, "After them!"

Dèsirèè continued pushing through the marketplace, vaulting over carts, while Jack just barely managed to stumble over them.

"Where are we going?" called Jack, dodging a fruit stand to the best of his abilities.

"Well…" she shouted back uncertainly, glancing behind her. Seeing a mob of soldiers chasing after them hardly lightened her spirits. "Anywhere but here!"

The two runaway pirates skidded down a side street and ducked through several abandoned houses, but they still couldn't completely evade their rapidly approaching captors.

As they continued their madcap dash through the city, the buildings (and people) were quickly deteriorating in their cultural appeal. In other words, they were heading deeper and deeper into the slums of Port Royal. The number of vagabonds and streetwalkers were multiplying with every corner they turned. Upon turning one particular corner, Dèsirèè had an epiphany. On the street sat a line of beggars near a pile of discarded rags lying on the corner, which may at one time have been garments, now left there by two unfortunates gone to a better place.

Dèsirèè grabbed the tattered robes and pulled Jack down onto the curb, throwing one cloth over him and the other over herself. Of course she had to remind Jack to remove his beloved hat.

Oddly enough, their rouse succeeded. The battalion sprinted past the line of beggars without giving them a second thought.

Once both of the pirates were certain that the last soldier had scurried past them, they stood up slowly, removing the grimy robes.

"Well," said Jack, taking it all in stride, "That was fun." Dèsirèè just stared at him as she attempted to remove the foul smelling artifice from her person. She pulled a pick out of her coat pocket and proceeded to free Jack from the shackles. "Hey, you're pretty good at that Moore." said Jack with surprise.

"Why thank ye Jack," Dèsirèè replied, placing the tool back in her pocket, "My mother taught me."

"Your mother?" Jack asked, now more surprised than ever. "What, pray tell, was she?"

"A woman of talent," Dèsirèè retorted, smiling to herself.

"Where do we go now?" Jack inquired, rubbing his hands together impatiently.

Dèsirèè surveyed the area around them, trying to figure out where they were. Not being able to determine this, she turned to Jack. "You'll probably know this Jack," she started, "Do you know where Madame Mercy's is?"

"A house of ill-fame?" Jack exclaimed, attempting to look as appalled as possible. "Why would you think I'd know where to find one of them?"

"Because you're a shameless, egotistical narcissist with misogynistic tendencies."

There was a long span of silence. "I'm guessing I should feel insulted, luv?"

"Oh yes, pumpkin."

Jack was silent, but in his mind he was strangling Dèsirèè. He wordlessly pointed down the street, indicating the correct direction. "Thank you," she said and the two pirates made there way to Madame Mercy's.

Madame Mercy's was located on the edge of town, near the waterfront. The façade was anything but inviting, the red brick long ago turned black with grime and soot, yet lamps and candles burned brightly inside and it appeared that many of the rooms were occupied.

"Why are we here again?" questioned Jack.

"Jesus Sparrow do you ignore everything I say?" Dèsirèè rejoined angrily.

"'O course."

Dèsirèè sighed, resigned to defeat. "We are here to retrieve the key in order to get the treasure."

"What kind of perverse sod would hide a key in a whorehouse?" asked Jack in disbelief.

"I would." replied Dèsirèè, a wide, dangerous grin on her face.

"'O." said Jack quietly. Dèsirèè hopped up the front steps and pushed the doors open confidently.

It was obviously a very high class place. Gilded, satin furniture was strewn about everywhere and red velvet drapes hung from every doorway. The air was soaked with the smell of wine and sweet perfume, and the floors were covered in plush Persian carpet. Various striking young ladies lay stretched out languidly on assorted sofas, sheer gossamer robes adorning their hour glass figures.

One of the young women propped herself up on her elbows, straining her long neck to look at the two pirates standing in the doorway. Her curly mahogany hair was cut just at her shoulder and had a tendency of falling into her eyes. She was short compared to most of the women in the bordello but was actually average in height. Her tan eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Dèsirèè and she gave a rather high pitched squeal of delight. "Moore!" she cried, waving her hand with childish exuberance. Dèsirèè glanced over, her eyes lighting up with delight.

"Bathom!" Dèsirèè returned, making her way to the back of the room where the young lady was situated. Jack followed behind her, enjoying many a fantasy about why Dèsirèè knew a girl who worked in whorehouse.

"Just the person I wanted to see." said Dèsirèè happily. The young lady, completely ignoring Jack, pulled Dèsirèè down onto the couch, with a slight 'oomph' from the pirate.

"Dèsirèè Moore, I missed ye!" shouted the girl, embracing Dèsirèè perhaps a tad too tightly.

"Alright Bathom, ye can let go now," wheezed out Dèsirèè, who was having slight difficulty breathing. "Bathom?" The young woman stayed clinging to Dèsirèè. "CASSY!"

"Oh, sorry." giggled Cassy, releasing Dèsirèè from her vise grip. "It's just so wonderful to lay eyes on ye! Where 'ave ye been?"

"'Eere, there," Dèsirèè shrugged her shoulders, "Everywhere practically."

"Except 'eere," pouted Cassy, "Why'd ye run off like that? Just because-"

"Cassy," Dèsirèè said loudly, talking over Cassy's words, "I'd like ye to meet Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack, this is Cassandra Bathom."

Jack stepped forward and bowed gracefully, took Cassy's hand and kissed it lightly, "M'lady."

Cassy's eyes grew a shade lighter. "Cap'n…" she said breathlessly. Then, still looking at Jack, she reached over and slapped Dèsirèè who was making gagging motions.

"Ow!" cried Dèsirèè catching her hat.

"That's what ye get," said Cassy primly. Dèsirèè just smiled ruefully.

"Cassy, it's wonderful to see you, but is Cee in?"

"Cee? Oh Cee! She doesn't work 'eere anymore."

"What?" asked Dèsirèè in dismay, "She went to another establishment?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." assured Cassy. "She stopped whoring months ago."

"Really? Why?"

"She landed herself a very wealthy Countess, lucky bitch."

"Ye mean Count don't ye?" corrected Jack.

"No," said Dèsirèè, looking up at him, "She, uh, means countess." Jack looked very confused. Cassy kept on talking.

"She still comes in 'eere though, to visit and the like."

"So she's still in Port Royal?" questioned Dèsirèè eagerly.

"Oh, yes, most definitely." nodded Cassy seriously. Dèsirèè was about to heave a sigh of relief when she glanced out of the window just over Cassy's shoulder. "Oh…bugger."

Cassy turned around to look and Jack leaned down. There, perfectly framed by the window, they could see a group of soldiers coming down the street with Norrington in the lead.

Jack looked down at Dèsirèè who looked up at him. "Well Cassy," said Dèsirèè standing up quickly and talking at a similar speed, her eyes darting to the window, "It's been lovely seeing you and all but we really have to go and for the record, we were never here."

"Who are you?" asked Cassy, a confused look on her face.

"Exactly. That's my girl." Dèsirèè and Jack headed for the door.

Jack peeked his head around the doorframe. The soldiers had stopped about halfway to Madame Mercy's, and the Commodore was turned to them, barking out his final instructions.

Just across the street was an alley. Jack looked back at Dèsirèè, mouthing 'Ready?' Dèsirèè nodded her head and took a deep breath.

They sprinted across the deserted street, which, for some reason, seemed wider than others. When they had made it into the alley unseen, they leaned up against the gritty brick wall, listening to Norrington attentively.

"-and search every building, every room, every alleyway, until you find them. Understood?" The soldiers nodded. "All right men, start your search." And the battalion broke a part and began their hunt for the two pirates.

Dèsirèè and Jack looked at each other. They couldn't go back out into the street; they'd be seen before they could take another step. Jack looked around the alleyway to see if there was another way out; there wasn't. Dèsirèè stole a quick look at the street; two soldiers were coming their way. Jack looked as well and then looked back at Dèsirèè who had begun cursing.

"Bugger. Buggerbuggerbugger. Goddamnit!" she shouted in a whisper, hitting the brick wall with her hand, not caring how much it would – ow – hurt.

"Dèsirèè, luv, calm down." Jack whispered to her, attempting to soothe the obviously aggravated woman.

"Calm down? Yes, gem of a suggestion. Damn. We're going to get caught. Damn!"

Suddenly, Jack had a brilliant idea. "Dèsirèè," she ignored him, leaning up against the wall, mumbling to herself, her arm flopped over her eyes dejectedly. "Dèsirèè," Jack said again, this time a little bit louder. She stopped mumbling, but still disregarded him. "Dèsirèè!" he shouted, well, said as loud as he could in a whisper.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly, uncovering her eyes.

Without further ado, Jack tossed her hat to the ground, and kissed her.

And kept on kissing her.

Needless to say Dèsirèè was surprised. Then she heard the approaching footsteps. She tried to push Jack away but he just shook his head anxiously. It was then that Dèsirèè understood the plan. Dèsirèè leaned back a little farther and lifted her leg up to Jack's hip, attempting to add a little more realism to the scene.

By now, Dèsirèè could hear the two men chatting with each other. Her pulse quickened slightly, hoping they didn't try to take a good look at the two of them. Jack heard them too and paused momentarily to tip his hat farther down over his eyes.

The two pirates could hear the soldiers stop at the alleyway entrance. Dèsirèè imagined they did a double take as they abruptly stopped talking. The two men stood there for several seconds until someone shouted at them.

"Perkins! John! You find anything?"

"No sir," replied one of them, "Just a man and his whore."

Jack could almost feel how badly Dèsirèè wanted to cry out in indignation. He just wasn't sure if it was about her being called a whore or if it was about her being called _his_.

"Well, come on then!" shouted the commanding officer. The two soldiers reluctantly trudged away.

As soon as Dèsirèè was sure the two soldiers had gone, she shoved Jack off and started jumping around, spitting, crying 'Jack germs, Jack germs' frantically.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," insisted Jack, feeling rather insulted. Women DID NOT respond to his kisses like this.

In reply, Dèsirèè merely took a corner of her coat and started wiping her mouth on it desperately. "God, I hope I didn't catch some kind of disease."

"Shut your gab," said Jack despairingly, pouting and glaring at Dèsirèè at the same time.

She smiled impishly and stopped. "You know," Dèsirèè started, glancing back out into the street; the soldiers where grouped at the far end of the street, "I could go for a strong drink."

"And I suppose ye expect me to pay for it, hm?" sneered Jack, still fuming.

"Actually," she said, glancing back at him, "I was going to pay for yours."

Jack looked surprised and then smiled. "Aye, I might accept that apology."

"An apology?" Dèsirèè mocked confusion. "Whatever for?"

Before Jack could respond she stepped out into the street, movingly as stealthily as possible. Jack followed. A loud bang rang out behind them. The two pirates turned to see Commodore Norrington, who had just slammed the door of Madame Mercy's rather hard in obvious frustration. He mopped his brow with his sleeve and then looked up. What sight should befall his eyes but that of Jack and Dèsirèè looking back at him.

Dèsirèè hadn't expected such a malicious smile from the Commodore as he spotted them. He slowly made his way down the steps of Madame Mercy's. "Jack?" asked Dèsirèè as she stepped backwards slowly, "Got a plan?"

"Your turn luv." replied Jack also stepping back little by little.

Norrington called to the soldiers and they all turned, their eyes focusing on the two pirates.

"How does running sound?"

"Running? Excellent. Brilliant." The two pirates took off dashing down the street, the posse of soldiers not to far away.

As they got deeper and deeper into the center of the city, Dèsirèè saw a theatre house. Sprinting towards it, Jack following, she pushed her way inside.

Rehearsals were clearly underway. Various actors were spread out around the theatre, some onstage, some in the house, still others backstage, catching a little sleep. A man stood on the stage, attempting to memorize his lines.

"To be…er," the man stumbled and tripped over the words painfully, "Or, or not to be…uh…"

Jack and then Dèsirèè vaulted onto the stage. "That is the question!" shouted Dèsirèè as she ran past.

"Oh yes, thank you!" shouted the man after her.

Dèsirèè backtracked to pat the man on the back. "You're welcome." Norrington and his soldiers burst through the doors. Dèsirèè ducked backstage. Jack was standing there rather unsure of what to do. Dèsirèè pushed him towards a wooden ladder and they climbed into the flies. They found themselves standing on a catwalk directly above the stage. Looking down they could see the soldiers spreading across the theatre and Norrington pacing impatiently right below them. It looked like they were safe for now.

Dèsirèè turned to Jack glaring at him. Jack noticed this and put his hands up defensively. "What did I do?"

"Since I met ye, I've been followed, attacked, and chased twice-" she threw up her hands. "Let's face it, ye are just bad luck!"

"Oi!" Jack retorted, "Ye 'aven't exactly been a good luck charm for me either luv!"

"Okay, okay," admitted Dèsirèè, calming down, "Let's keep quiet or else they'll hear us." She looked down at the stage again. Norrington had stopped pacing and was now standing directly under her, arms crossed across his chest, surveying his soldiers search. Dèsirèè sighed. "At least things can't get any-" she was interrupted by a loud cracking noise. She looked at Jack, her eyes widening. She whirled around and looked behind her. There she saw it; the plank of wood they were standing on was breaking. Dèsirèè looked back up at Jack, her whole face sagging. "Oh merde-"

Before she could finish, both her and Jack plunged down towards the stage. Jack had the good fortune to land on a pile of sandbags. Dèsirèè had the good fortune to land on the Commodore, knocking him down. He sat up, wig slightly askew, looking very undignified. Dèsirèè was sitting quite comfortably in his lap. He looked down at her, eyes wide with amazement. She looked back up at him.

"Why Commodore," she said, fluttering her eyelashes, "I didn't know ye cared."

Norrington, obviously quite averse to the idea, unceremoniously pushed the female pirate off of him. He stood up and dragged Dèsirèè to her feet. Jack was already in shackles yet again.

"Believe me Ms. Moore," returned the Commodore, glaring at her, "I don't."

* * *

A/N: Boom! Whatdya think? Please give me some feedback; I'm dieing to know how this went over! How are my chase scenes? SHOUT OUT Y'ALL. Next Chapter: Cee and Our Favorite Love Birds come on to the scene. 

Adios Amigos,

T.F.


	14. Port Royal Part 3: The Infamous Cee

Disclaimer: I don't own Port Royal, the jail, or Jack. I do own the soldiers, Cee, and everything else in this chapter that wasn't in the movie. So there : P.

Author's Note: Can you believe this?? I'm back again!! Dominic and Sandra (my muses) will not leave me alone. Not that I'm complaining mind you. Anything is better then them leaving me for Puerto Rico (apparently a big muse vacation hot spot). Technically, I should be doing homework. Technically.

But I love you more…than homework.

Also, in this chappie, I have several dialogues in French. Translations are provided at the bottom. When you see () that is the start and when you see it again, that's the end. You're welcome.

Adios Amigos,

T.F.

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Dèsirèè stood up from where she had been unceremoniously tossed and brushed the dirt from her pants, listening to the cell door clang loudly behind her.

Jack had also been thrown into the jail cell and had already made himself quite comfortable on a pile straw in the corner, his hat pulled over his eyes. At last he could get some proper rest.

Dèsirèè, sniffed the air experimentally, noticing a faint rancid odor. "Did something die in here?" she inquired, turning to the guard still locking the heavy iron door.

He looked up at her with his eyebrows scrunched together in thought. "Hm? Oh yeah, an old beggar man. Didn't notice he was dead for a good six days." The man smiled wickedly at Dèsirèè, whose eyes were wide in disbelief.

"Six bloody days?? Didn't ye notice the smell?"

"Well he was lying in the straw there; it absorbed a lot of the stench for a while."

Jack lifted the brim of his hat with two fingers, looked down at the bed of straw that was under him, and quickly scrambled off of it. The guard laughed repulsively and sauntered over to the far end of the room, where his comrade was waiting with a pack of cards.

Jack continued to gape at the pile of straw with a sickened expression while Dèsirèè surveyed their surroundings. It wasn't the worst prison she'd been in (Gungam Island Jail took that title) but it wasn't exactly homey either. The floors and walls were slimy to the touch and the odious aroma of decaying flesh was doing nothing for the atmosphere. The only forgivable feature was a good-sized, barred window that let in plenty of light.

Dèsirèè sneaked past the still abhorred Jack and set herself up on the windowsill, leaning her back against one side and bending her legs so she would fit. Jack saw the prime spot about two seconds too late and glared at the female pirate.

"Oi, girlie! I want that seat."

Dèsirèè just snorted at him, closing her eyes, "Ye actually think you're gonna get it?"

Under normal circumstances, Jack would have lifted her off of his seat and dropped her on the floor. But Dèsirèè was not normal circumstances. Jack could tell that under that calm façade was one frustrated, brassed off pirate.

Maybe he'd take the floor.

At that moment, he heard someone coming up the steps. He perked up; his first thought was that it was Will. However, he was very much mistaken. Climbing the stairs was a striking African-American woman, probably about 25 to 27 years of age. She wore a low-cut, off the shoulder red top with a white skirt that reached down to the mid-calf. Leather boots adorned her feet. She was average in height and her russet hair varied from long braids to feathery loose sections. Her dark chocolate eyes scanned the room casually, momentarily resting on Dèsirèè and Jack.

The two guards spotted her, pausing their poker game. "Hey," cried one, starting from his chair, "What do you think you're doing up here?!"

The woman started, her eyes going wide and innocent. "Me? Why, I'm looking for you two."

Dèsirèè scowled in confusion before slowly opening one eye. When she saw the strange lady, she closed the eye slowly, a wide feral grin spreading across her now relaxed face.

If Jack had noticed this, he might have been more prepared for what was to come. The truth was however, that his attention was firmly fixated upon the young woman in question who sashayed her way across the room. In his mind, he was cursing the damned lucky guards.

"What do you want?" asked the man, still glaring suspiciously. Obviously he was not very fluent in body language, as anyone with a basic understanding of the dialect could see EXACTLY what her attractive body was attempting to communicate.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked the woman, seriously invading the man's personal space. She pouted her shapely lips. "You."

Something in the guard's mind must have clicked because his mouth dropped open and he sought emotional support by gripping the table behind him. His fellow sentry was still sitting at the table, eyes wide, the full house he had in his hand clearly forgotten.

Jack looked on in astonishment, sullenly wondering why such a thing had never happened to him. Dèsirèè didn't move, but continued grinning.

The ebony lady placed one hand on each side of the guards face, leaning in as if to kiss him. The guard was sending a quick prayer up to God telling him that if he let him get away with this one, all vice would be cast out of his life forever. Unfortunately, the faithful man never got a chance to prove his devotion as his neck was suddenly cracked like a chicken bone.

Jack jumped away from the bars as the woman carelessly dropped the limp body onto the ground and reached down to her boot. Once the second sentry had recovered, he leaped from his chair and rushed towards the murderess. She casually turned around and stabbed him with an ornate dagger. When the unlucky guard had fallen to the ground, she nonchalantly replaced the weapon into her boot.

Jack stayed cowering on the floor, his gaze one of amazement and fear. What would this strange black widow do now? Kill the witnesses as well?

"You never have been one for subtlety," stated Dèsirèè, her eyes finally open, staring bemusedly at the ceiling, "Have you Cee?"

The woman turned around, surprise and relief flooding her face at first, but then quickly replaced by a death glare. "I believe Dèsirèè," she growled, "I just 'subtly' saved your arse from the hangman's noose. Again."

Dèsirèè hopped down from the ledge and meandered her way over to the bars, leaning her arms against them in order to converse more comfortably with her old friend. "How many times has it been now? Four? Six?"

"I stopped counting after eight. What would you do without me?"

Jack was recovering from his shock and stood up slowly. Dèsirèè and Cee kept on talking, completely ignoring his presence.

"Hey! I could have gotten out of this myself if they hadn't taken away me pick."

Cee looked aghast and then extremely angry. "Oh, you could have now, eh?" She trotted over to where the pirates' effects had been laid and fished around in Dèsirèè's coat pocket until she found the afore-mentioned lock-pick. Turning back to the jail cell, she tossed the instrument to Dèsirèè who had to lunge out to catch it. "Go ahead then," prompted Cee, "Get yourself out of there."

Dèsirèè blinked several times before glowering at her colleague and grumbling. "Foul, vile woman."

"Yeah, that would be me. Now pick the bloody lock."

Dèsirèè being occupied, Cee cast a bored glance over at Jack.

"Who's your new friend?"

"Hm?" Dèsirèè glanced up from the lock. "Oh how rude of me. Jack, this is Cindy Rowan. Cee, this is Jack-" she winced and immediately corrected herself before Jack could, "CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow."

Cindy tilted her head at the stunned pirate.

"Bonjour, Captain Sparrow. My name is Cindy, and I'll be your rescuer today," she said, amusement lining her deep voice. Jack nodded at her and grinned.

"Thank ye, Mademoiselle," he replied with a grin. Cindy raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to Dèsirèè, who was still diligently working on the lock.

"Il parle francias?" she asked. Dèsirèè looked over at Jack.

"Non, remercie Dieu," responded the female pirate, stopping her efforts momentarily to flex her hands.

"Ah, il est sourds-muets." Cindy looked back over at him, her head cocked to one side. "Mignon cependant." Dèsirèè answered with a simple, "Ew."

Jack sent them quizzical looks. "What are ye two gabbing on about now?"

"Oh nothing really," said Dèsirèè off-handedly, cursing the damned cell lock, "Ms. Rowan was just commenting on how attractive you are."

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise before smiling seductively at Cee.

"No, no, no," said Cee, noticing his suggestively raised eyebrows, "No. If you were a Jacqueline, maybe. But no. Thank you, but no."

"Speaking of women," interjected Dèsirèè, not wanting Jack to ask some nosy questions that would probably end up with him dieing, "Hear you landed yourself a rich countess."

"And where, may I ask, did you hear that from?" question Cee, a slight undertone of distress flowing through her voice.

Dèsirèè heard the trickle of pain and looked up, concerned. "From Cassy, why? Cindy, what's wrong?"

"Elle est morte," said Cee with a sigh, "Yellow fever."

Dèsirèè froze on the floor, unsure of what to say. Not being able to deal with her own grief, she was often hesitant about helping others with theirs. "I'm…" she started, "…very sorry." The pirate shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you should just stick with men."

Cee composed herself to snort sarcastically. "I am just too heavenly beautiful for men to catch, and everyone knows how worthless they are anyway. Never can make a relationship work. You, Des, need some work on that too." Her eyes sparkled maliciously.

"Relationships are overrated," Dèsirèè retorted back, getting increasingly frustrated with the lock, "Besides, I'm a pirate for chrissakes."

"Never stopped you before."

"People change," Dèsirèè pointed out, joyfully hearing the lock click.

Jack had watched the two women bicker and argue for quite sometime and, while he was very interested in discovering more information about the two, he **was** rather anxious to get out of the prison before the next round of guards came filing in.

Much to his relief, Dèsirèè stood up, gripped the bars with one hand and pushed off of the dirt floor with her foot, riding the door as it swung open. She jumped down from the door, replaced the pick into her breast pocket with a flourish, and bowed to Cee. Cindy rolled her eyes.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested, "Prisons give me the willies."

"Not with out my-" Before Jack could finish, his effects were thrown unceremoniously at him.

"There, happy now?" inquired Dèsirèè curtly. She was rather upset at Cindy, mentioning those kinds of things in front of…others. Still she knew it would do no good to berate the woman for her actions. Best to just get on with it.

The rag-tag group made their way out of the jail, staying in the shadows to avoid detection.

* * *

"Look, ye two, I know a place where we'll be safe," Jack said taking the lead.

"Lead on, Monsieur," Cindy said behind him, as they stealthily made their way after him.

"He speak French?" she asked. Dèsirèè looked over at Jack.

"No, thank God," responded the female pirate, stopping her efforts momentarily to flex her hands.

"Oh, he's stupid." Cindy looked back over at him, her head cocked to one side. "Cute though." Dèsirèè answered with a simple, "Ew."

* * *

A/N: This is shorter than some of my others, but it's still pretty long and seemed like a good place for a chappie break. Please tell me whatcha think!!

Adios Amigos,

T.F.


	15. Port Royal Part 4: Will Turner

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Port Royal, the Smithy, or Will. However, I do own Cindy, Dèsirèè, the situation, the dialogue, the words, THE WORLD! BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Author's Note:

It has been awhile hasn't folks? But, I assure you, it's all worth while. I have sweated and slaved to produce this chappie for you. Months in the making, I have poured my blood and tears into this chapter.

…

Alright, so it sucks. But read it anyway, and TELL ME how much it sucks. Enjoy!

Write m/ On

T.F.

P.S. My darling soul mate (heterosexual) wrote the totally awesome description of Will Turner. Read her stuff, its as fantastic as her description!

* * *

As they made their way down the darkened streets of Port Royal, Dèsirèè had somehow managed to take the lead, even though she had no idea where they were going. She supposed it was the captain in her.

In all actuality, Jack had fallen back to converse with Cee, and was now desperately attempting to get the courtesan to reveal some of the secrets he was sure Dèsirèè had.

"Well, where does she come from?" asked Jack.

"St. Marie, same as me."

"Is that why she speaks French?"

Cindy stopped to look at him. "No. The monkeys taught her."

Jack considered this for a moment, before glaring at her. They had come to a corner, and Dèsirèè had stopped to glance around. "Which way?" she whispered.

"Starboard," pointed Jack. Upon giving the vital direction, he fell back with Cindy again. "Can ye at least tell me how ye met her?"

Cindy thought back to that night in St. Marie.

* * *

She was barely 18 and had already been whoring for three years. She found the men that she met all rather boring. They all did the same things, they all talked the same way, and they all were horribly inadequate in everyway imaginable. That's why she had started taking the sacrilegious cases; women.

The sea breeze had been a little too much for her so she had decided to walk the streets a little bit, stretch her legs before she had to go back to work. She looked at the unusually black horizon, wondering if a bit of rainfall was coming. At that precise moment, a shoe fell down and hit her squarely on top of the head. She picked up the lonely piece of apparel, rubbing her head with wonderment. Another shoe fell just to the left of her.

This was turning out to be a strange type of storm.

However, the real moment of amazement came when a person fell directly on top of her, knocking her down and giving her a headache that, little did she know, was going to last for a good eight years. She pushed herself up and took a good look at the person sprawled across her, so she could remember exactly who she was murdering.

The girl was tall and gangly at first glance, her long arms and legs sprawled out from her trim body. Her hair was about shoulder length and was flopped in front of her face, obscuring the rest of her features. She was also currently impairing Cindy's leg movement, as she was sitting directly on them.

"Are you alright?" inquired Cee politely.

With a moan, the girl sat up, brushing the dark brown locks away to reveal an altogether small face. Her nose was petite, her lips on the thin side and her eyes, though a brilliant crystal blue, were not very large. She had a child's face; an innocent's face.

"Yeah," she replied, twisting her neck this way and that, "I think so."

"Good," retorted Cee before slapping the young lady hard upside the head, pushing her off, and standing up.

"That," insisted the girl angrily, standing up and rubbing her head, "Was entirely uncalled for."

Cee stopped fixing her hair to stare at the girl. "You just fell-"

"I didn't fall," interrupted the girl.

"Alright then," she pressed on, "You were pushed-"

"I wasn't pushed either."

There was a span of uncomfortable silence.

"You jumped?"

"Yeah, I jumped."

Cindy looked at the full height of the building. It was about three stories high. "You could've picked a taller building you know. If you really wanted it to work." The young lady joined her in her perusal of the edifice.

"Yes, I suppose I should've. Oh well," she said, turning to Cee with a smile, bordering on an insane grin, "better luck next time."

Cee looked her up and down. "How old are you? 12? 13?"

"Just turned 15."

"Why don't you come with me?"

"Why on earth should I?"

"'Cause you just landed on me from a three story drop and I have a right to care about your welfare. Now come on. I'll buy us some drinks."

The girl stared at her suspiciously before shrugging and following her down the street to the Captain's Pub. "I'm Dèsirèè Moore by the way. Future pirate."

"I'm Cindy Rowan. Current courtesan."

"Fantastic to meet you."

Cee never did realize that she would be buying drinks for the strange girl her whole life.

* * *

"I guess you could say…we bumped into one another one night and…went for drinks," explained Cee.

They were currently across the street from a small, aged smithy, the lights from the bellow long extinguished, the façade dark and uninviting. A sign hung outside the large double doors, practically unreadable in the dim light, squeaking ominously with the passing breeze.

"We going in there?" asked Cee.

"I do believe we are," asserted Dèsirèè.

"…Are you sure we have too?"

Jack joined them at the corner, peering at the building and then scoffing at the obviously reluctant women.

"What a pair of old biddies," he sneered, just loud enough for Dèsirèè and Cindy to hear. They both glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, before looking at each other, straightening up and stomping towards the building, with a very pleased Jack trailing behind them.

Dèsirèè peered around the street warily as she made quick work of the lock. Once she had heard the all too familiar click, she slid the door open slowly, craning her head inside. The embers in the forge still glowed with a hard days work. The moonlight coming in from a small window glinted off of the large collection of perfectly molded steel.

"A smithy?" questioned Dèsirèè, glancing back at Jack. "Why are we-" However, now was not the time to ask such questions as a small group of soldiers were coming down the street. Jack pushed both Dèsirèè and Cindy into the building forcefully, causing the two women to fall into each other and sprawl out onto the hard dirt floor. Jack stepped in quickly behind them and shut the door, leaning back against it, hardly daring to breathe until he heard the last of the men march past. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief that promptly caught in his throat as he caught the death glares being shot at him by the two disgruntled females lounging on the floor.

"Sorry, luv," apologized Jack leaning down to help Dèsirèè up. When Jack uttered the horrid pet name, Dèsirèè's glare increased tenfold and Cindy's brightened to one of obvious amusement. Dèsirèè pushed his proffered hand aside and pushed herself up, while bending down to pull Cindy up a little more forcefully than she should of.

"Just what, pray tell, are we doing in a smithy?" inquired Dèsirèè politely, attempting to keep the biting cynicism out of her voice and undeniably failing.

"We are here," explained Jack slowly, "Because we need to be."

There was a moment of silence as the two women stared at him. Cee was the first to speak.

"Well, that's certainly good enough for me! I suppose I'll go keep watch, yeah?" Without waiting for confirmation she strolled outside, shut the door behind her, leaned back and began thinking furiously about how she was going to tell Dèsirèè about her key when she was in this kind of mood.

"I'm going to try and find someone," asserted Jack vaguely, stepping towards a backroom and stopping to pick up Dèsirèè's hat which had been knocked off in their hasty entry into the building.

"Oh yeah? And what the 'ell am I supposed to do, oh captain my captain?" hissed Dèsirèè, her hands placed on her hips in question.

"Just…stay here," Jack called over his shoulder, disappearing into a back room. He reappeared momentarily to toss Dèsirèè her hat, which she just managed to catch. "And don't touch anything."

Dèsirèè slammed the hat angrily onto her head and stalked around the smithy for several minutes, more restless than she had been in a long while. Finally, mutiny got the best of her and she decided that she would find something of value in this dump and put her hands _all over_ it, just to spite Jack.

She ran her fingers along the row of hilts, listening to the soft lullaby of chime-like clings that followed. Her warm hand wrapped around an icy sword and gently pulled it away from its sleeping brothers.

She gave the weapon an experimental swoop through the air, attempting a few half-hearted parries and thrusts. To Dèsirèè's enormous surprise and delight, a high pitched whine followed the path of the folded steel as it cut through the balmy night air.

Any true swordsman will tell you that in order to be truly gifted at the art, in order to get that bit of infamy that all sword masters crave in their heart of hearts, one's equipment is as important as one's skill. The sword that Dèsirèè was currently holding appraisingly up to a sliver of moonlight was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

A cold, metal point tickled the base of Dèsirèè's neck, bringing her unpleasantly out of her reverie.

"Who are you?" interrogated a voice from behind her. It was sharp now, but still held an undertone of honey, the tones warm and delightfully sticky to the mind.

"Liam Innis," replied Dèsirèè, keeping calm but now curious, "Who might you be?"

"Liam Innis? The Pirate?" She could feel the man tense behind her.

"No, no, I'm the _other_ Liam Innis," she replied, hoping that the obvious sarcasm would curb the boy's insatiable curiosity.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see your face, pirate."

"… Why?"

He pressed the tip deeper into her skin, very close to drawing that first bead of scarlet tears.

"Turn."

Dèsirèè made a quick assessment of her situation:

A man was threatening her

She was in an exceptionally pissy mood and needed an outlet

She did NOT like being ordered about

This man could be Jack's friend.

Her decision: disarm her captor, but try not to hurt the poor boy _too_ terribly.

"Alright, alright. I surrender." Dèsirèè began to slowly turn around. Several things now happened very quickly.

First, the only way that Dèsirèè could turn around meant that the man behind her was forced to lower his blade somewhat.

Secondly, as Dèsirèè turned, she unsheathed her sword and made to knock her opponent's out of his hands.

Unfortunately, Dèsirèè had not counted on the boy being quite as fast as he was. As soon as he heard her draw her sword he attempted to raise his back up. The tip grazed the back of Dèsirèè's neck and just missed her head before she was able to knock it down.

Thankfully, she was quick enough so that she placed her blade just under her chin. She took this opportunity to examine her opponent.

The 'boy' was really only a few years younger than herself, and extremely good looking. Long chestnut hair was swept into a messy pony tail, and shorter pieces framed his beautiful masculine face. Large, currently defiant and curious brown eyes stared at the gawking pirate in front of him under arched brows, his face set off by a straight nose and thin lips, with a stubborn, strong chin. He was shirtless, obviously just finishing up closing the smith, and his sweat left the tan muscles gleaming. Narrow hips were attached to long, strong legs covered in good, leather boots. He continued staring at Dèsirèè until something just behind her caught his attention.

It took a moment to realize what the boy was looking at, before it let itself be heard. Loudly.

"Mon dieu, fille! Je sorte for one minute, and already you're getting into trouble!"

"I'm not in trouble!" protested Dèsirèè, never letting her eyes off the man, a smirk gracing her lips, "I'm just having a bit of fun."

"Yeah, well, your _fun_ has knocked your hat off again." Cindy came up beside her, floppy hat in hand.

Dèsirèè started and realized why he had been looking at her so strangely. She shook out her hair and took the hat with her other hand.

"Damn thing. It used to work so well." She examined it as closely as she could with one hand. "Probably needs re-blocking or something." A cheeky snort answered her and she turned back with surprise to her attacker, reexamining him. Dèsirèè would probably never admit it, but she found him very 'comforting' to look at (the word 'comforting' here being used in the context of 'so incredibly good looking she was reconsidering her rule of mixing business with pleasure').

"Dessy," sang Cee softly, attempting to get a better look at her comrade's face, "Heeeellllooooooo….."

Dèsirèè shook herself out of her daze, before rubbing her eyes and muttering, "I am going to kill Jack." Her challenger immediately relaxed, or as much relaxing as one can do with a sword placed at his throat.

"You're friends of Jack?" he asked, his dark brown eyes questioning. Dèsirèè nodded and replaced her blade in her sheath. Cindy moved closer to the pair and was about to try and tell Dèsirèè something rather important when she finally got a good look at their previous prisoner, and whistled low.

"Well," she said, her eyebrows raised, "You are just about enough to have a woman reconsider her decisions."

Dèsirèè turned to her old friend, an eyebrow raised in humor when, at that exact moment, Jack burst into the room, and looked about wildy.

"Wha' did I miss?"

Dèsirèè stared at him.

"Have I mentioned your timing is impeccable?"

Jack grinned and ambled over to the group. "Many women have luv. Many women have." The man and Cindy rolled their eyes simultaneously. Jack glanced over at a now entirely befuddled man and his grin widened.

"Oi, William! Please, put on some clothes, there are ladies present, mate."

Will noticed his lack of apparel for the first time and his face immediately turned a charming shade of cherry.

"No, no, no," assured Cindy frantically, "Please, you are not offending us at all. Rather the opposite really." Dèsirèè looked back at her, an expression of astonishment on her face. "What! You were thinking the same thing, don't deny it."

"Yeah, well at least I didn't _say_ it. I mean, I have more dignity than _that_."

"Please! Remember that time in San Luig when you-"

Dèsirèè quickly clamped a hand over Cindy's smug mouth. "We are never to discuss what happened in San Luig."

"What happened in San-?" inquired Jack off-handedly.

"NOTHING. Nothing happened. I was never there."

"But," Will started, pulling a dirty shirt over his head, "She just said-"

Dèsirèè stepped towards him, seriously invading his personal space. "I. 'Ave never been. To San Luig. Don't even know where the 'ell it is." Upon asserting this, she stepped back calmly, cleared her throat, and proffered her hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Will Turner."

"Dèsirèè Moore. Also known as Liam Innis, but I haven't been called that for years."

* * *

Author's Note: THERE! I have finally introduced the most beloved Will Turner. What did you think? Hm? Sexah enough for you?

Read, Review, Enjoy. The three steps to happiness.

Your Obedient,

T.F.


	16. Key Players

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Will, Elizabeth, or the place in which this chapter takes place. I do own Cindy, Dèsirèè, and the stuff that makes up this written piece.

Author's Note:

Well it's time for my yearly update! Hmph, sorry about this guys. My life's been going in all different directions; I've moved across the country, had my first boyfriend, been focusing on slam poetry, etc. But, I just couldn't forget Dèsirèè and her friends. Okay, so yes, this chapter is short, but you guys gotta give me a break. I'm trying to get back on the horse with this story and I'm just testing the water with this chapter. Read, enjoy, and try to fall in love with them all over again.

With all my compliments,

T.F.

* * *

Will lead them through several back rooms, pressing upon the rag tag group the need for quiet. They finally reached a room that resembled a kitchen; a large stove on one side, some assorted cabinets surrounding the edges of the room and a small table near the center.

Will then proceeded to commit a cardinal sin, one that would tie him to the pirates forever: He asked if anyone would like a glass of rum. Immediately, two Captains jumped on his offer, pushing him out of the way and grabbing the bottle he held in his hand. Cindy politely refused, commenting that not only did she find the taste a bit too tart, but that she didn't think she would get the bottle away from Jack and Dèsirèè.

The two pirates had finally come to a decision about who would pour the drinks and who would get the glasses; Jack got stuck with doing the latter and Dèsirèè lovingly stroked the bottle of alcohol.

The cork stopper gave a jolly little pop as Dèsirèè pulled it out, the glass of the bottle and of the cups clinking together in good cheer. Will and Cindy had begun chattering friendly, exchanging customary questions of etiquette, inquiring after each other's health and happiness.

"Was that a cork popping that I heard?"

All conversation in the room stopped dead as the voice rang out, each person freezing where they were.

Busted.

The sound of bare footsteps got closer and a door, just to the left of where they were all huddled, opened, and a lady stepped into the room, silk robe billowing around her as she said, "Will, just what are you-"

Suddenly finding 4 pairs of eyes staring at you was enough to shock anyone, but the current collection of eyes were none to friendly, belonging to pirates, a whore, and a blacksmith. Elizabeth quickly pulled her robe closed, eyes searching the room frantically before lighting, falling upon a familiar, roguish face.

"Jack!" The normally reserved woman spun lightly across the room, stopping just short of jumping on the pirate, hugging him with a happiness that surprised everyone in the room, including Jack.

Dèsirèè simply shook her head, muttering 'Just when you thought you've seen everything' as she downed a large swig of rum.

"Oh," Elizabeth exclaimed as she hurriedly released Jack, catching the puzzled stare of Dèsirèè, "you brought friends."

"Ah, yes," Jack turned, letting the two women face each other, "Mrs. Turner, Dèsirèè Moore."

Dèsirèè bowed curtly and settled into her chair. "Pleasure, mum."

"And Cindy Rowan," finished Jack. Cee took Elizabeth's outstretched had and kissed it softly. "Enchanteè, belle mademoiselle," she whispered, her low voice hypnotically sweet.

Elizabeth's expression would have caused the most serious nun to laugh herself into tears. Dèsirèè drowned out her own mirth with a hearty swig of rum.

"Will!" exclaimed Jack, efficiently leaping over the awkward moment. "How's the life of a married man then, eh?"

As the three friends participated in the customary catch-up talk, Cindy joined Dèsirèè at the small wooden table, plopping down into a chair as Dèsirèè poured her a large glass.

"You really aught to be more…discreet, Cee," chided Dèsirèè gently. "I mean, she's already _married_."

"There's no harm in trying," Cee replied jovially.

Dèsirèè gave a small smile and then sighed. "We're wasting time," she whined, taking off her hat and running a hand over her hair. "I just want to get the key and get off of this rock."

There was a span of heavy silence between the two friends as Cee took a long, slow drink.

"Um…Dee?"

"Oui?"

"About the key…"

"…and as soon as we were able to vacate the charming premises of the jail," finished Jack, "we hurried over to greet you two."

Will was about to respond when a loud crack pierced the air. The group jumped collectively and whipped around to see what the trouble might be.

The remains of Dèsirèè's wooden mug were strewn across the floor, rum dripping from the jagged peaks. The pirate herself was running around the table, chasing after a certain prostitute who appeared to have the very fear of God put into her.

"VOUS PUTAIN FRANÇAISE STUPIDE!" Dèsirèè's eyes were wide and dark, anger tainting the pupils as she scrambled with ferocious tenacity after her soon to be late friend. "J'AI LAISSE LA CLEF AVEC TU PUISQUE J'AI PENSE QUE TU AVEZ EU L'INTELLIGENCE - À!" Dèsirèè gave another yell of uncontainable frustration. "L'OH, JE VAIS TU _TUE_!"

Cindy herself was clambering over and under everything she could find, knocking over chairs and various furniture as she went, crying "JE SUIS DÉSOLÉ, JE SUIS DÉSOLÉ, NE ME TUE PAS, _NE ME TUE PAS_!"

Now Jack's knowledge of the French language was limited at best, but he had spent some time in several ports of the French persuasion, and, being Jack, the phrases he recognized were "You stupid French whore!" and "I'M GOING TO _KILL_ YOU!"

Jack figured it was time for some intervention. He stepped just behind the fleeing French woman and let Dèsirèè plow into him with, he had to admit, a little more force than he had expected. "Now Dèsirèè-" he sputtered, trying to hold her still as she thrashed against him, trying to get to the shaky Cee behind him, "MOORE! Just **_calm down_**, for chrissakes!"

For a dreadfully long moment, the room was silent as Dèsirèè actually stopped moving, turning her murderous glare slowly onto Jack. "Oh merde. Cap'n…" Cindy glanced at the pirate sympathetically, backing away slowly, "ye shouldn't have said that…"

"Calm…_down_?" repeated Dèsirèè, as if the words were a foreign language to her. "Calm down, Cap'n Sparrow?" She planted her feet firmly on the floor and took a step back, her arms open wide. "Don't I seem **calm** to you?"

"Yes…," Jack nodded his head with wariness, "ye do."

"But, please, share with me how calm you'd be, if you were told that the one thing your future depended on had been lost by some _empty headed **French whore!**_" Jack's beautiful, braided, beaded goatee was soon to be at the mercy of a pirate beside herself with rage. Dèsirèè gripped the hair firmly and pulled down with vicious delight, eliciting a yelp from the Captain as she pulled him down to face level. "WOULD YOU BE _CALM_ JACK!"

"NO no **no**, I would be very _very _upset," Jack assured her, on the verge of whimpering most pitifully.

Dèsirèè's free hand shot up, causing Jack to jump back before he could remember that she had him by the beard. He watched, frozen, as her hand tightened into a fist. Her pointer finger jabbed the air before coming slowly towards his face. Jack squeezed his eyes shut…

And felt a light tap on his nose.

"Good." She released him, rolling her shoulders slightly, eyes heavenward. "Now, what was I doing? Oh yes," in her corner, Cindy began to shake again, "I was on my way to viciously murdering a very stupid Frenchwoman by the name of CINDY ROWAN!"

"_Please Dee!_ It wasn't my fault!" Cindy retreated further into her corner, seemingly wanting to cave in on herself.

"Just what exactly wasn't her fault?" inquired Will anxiously, a protective arm wrapped around his wife.

"Oh, not your fault then?" Dèsirèè continued advancing, seeming to ignore Will's question before turning to face him, a hand on her hip. "Not _her_ fault, you see, that she happened to _lose_ the bloody key, the one, singular thing that this entire job depends upon, the one, SIMPLE, thing I left her to do. Not her fault at all, don't you see?"

"You're the one who has the key?" Jack interjected with sudden illumination to why they had picked her up in the first place.

"Well. Had. I had the key." Dèsirèè rounded back on the shattered woman, causing her to begin shouting again. "But I haven't lost it, really I haven't! I know exactly where it is!"

"So you've told me dearest!" Dèsirèè's tone was far more upset than angry now, her pitch reaching heights of whining not before discovered. "In a safe! Inside a brothel! That we, naturally, can't get into! A lot of _bloody good that does us now!"_

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A/N: So the gangs all here now, no? I can tell you there are only two more characters that are going to be introduced that haven't been hinted at. But that isn't for a while. So get to know these people, learn to love 'em.

The three steps to happiness: Read, Enjoy, Review. You've already read, I hope you enjoyed it, so review for cosmic peace and prosperity!

Your Obedient,

T.F.


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